Hogwarts and Hetalia
by aquariusyoi
Summary: After the First Wizarding War, England had to have some peace and quiet... right? Right. For fourteen years. The next year, he is done. Done. So, he brings his fellow nations to Hogwarts to stop Voldemort (Lord Funny Name) from getting as powerful as he was.
1. To Hogwarts we go!

Prologue: To Hogwarts we go!

This is my first fanfiction, so feel free to criticize!

Before we start, there are a few things I'd like to clarify:

This is a fanfic written by an inexperienced writer, so it's not good.

It follows the usual plot of Pottertalia (fourth and fifth year), with a few variations. Humans know about nations, but they don't know how they look like, bar the higher-ups. Even if they knew that that person was a nation, they would forget it, even if said nation - heck, every nation - broadcasted it out to the whole world to hear.

There are some OCs. Malaysia, Singapore, the Philippines and of course, the British Bros.

Right, enough with the rambling! Let's get into the crazy world of Hetalia and Hogwarts!

I do not own anything.

\--Line break--

15 years ago

The nation of England groaned as he opened his eyes.

Another day, another shade of sunlight too bright, another shade of blood to cough up.

Really, the only worse thing Voldemort (seriously? Flight from death? In French? That name alone could make him throw up blood.) could do now was to just kill him.

It wasn't anything like the second Great War though (they just had to bomb the major cities. Fuck them), but this time, it was only him and his brothers.

He flipped over and accidentally fell off the bed.

Groaning, he stood up and made his way to the bathroom and looked into the mirror.

His face was as pale as ever, accentuated by the loss of weight he had recently - after all, it wasn't very easy to eat when you were throwing up almost every hour - and his eyes were dulled, losing the shine they had.

He coughed, feeling a pain in his chest.

Somehow, it felt… different. Like something was right once again. Like how he felt when each of the wars ended.

Staggering over to the sink, he coughed up blood. A vibrant red, with some specks of dark red.

By god, he hoped that once he was better (once this massacre was stopped), he would personally find Voldemort, resurrect him (necromancy was always his forte, and the only way to stop this was to kill him, right?) and kill him again and again, prophecy or not.

Sadly, that prophecy also meant that he couldn't kill him.

Taking a deep breath (and almost choking on the leftover blood in his throat), he rinsed, showered and dressed.

And almost immediately after, he collapsed.

"-and? England?"

England shot up, hitting the redhead's forehead right above him.

"Ow! Don't get up so suddenly! Is this how you pay back your big brother?"

He rolled his eyes. "Scotland, thanks, but you deserved that."

"Why you little- you know what, never mind. Just remind me to get back at you someday." Scotland huffed.

"By the way, do you feel… better?"

"Now that you mention… yeah. How long was I out?"

Just then, an owl flew in, the Daily Prophet in its beak. It landed on the coffee table and dropped the newspaper. Scotland gave it five Sickles and it flew off.

On the headlines, large letters wrote, "You-know-who defeated by the Boy Who Lived!"

Present time

"EVERYBODY SHUT UP!"

The room went silent for a few seconds before the noise started again.

Germany sighed. He had dealt with a lot today. He was done.

England sat there, minding his own business, but for some reason, he seemed to not mind France taunting him.

"Angleterre, you seem out of character today. Anything troubling you?" France asked after the fifty-second time trying to get a reaction out of him.

"Hm? No, but something doesn't feel right. Since Voldemort rising last year."

"You mean that guy who used the best language to make the worst name ever? Of course that isn't right!"

"The best language in the world? Explain the word 'bird' and how it's pronounced."

"That's just one word! And it looks great, non?"

"No it doesn't. Frog. I'm going to start another Hundred Years War if I hear another word from your lips. Now, excuse me. I have something to talk."

England walked up to the podium.

The rather loud chatter - England was going to ignore Busby's Chair and how Russia was sitting in it, looking rather comfortable and the mysterious bloodstains - died down.

If England had something to say rather than quarrel with France about petty things, it should be important.

"Right. So, most of you have heard that Voldemort has risen again, no?"

The nations stirred uneasily. Yes, they were aware if magic. Yes, they used it. Wandless, though. Carrying a wand around wasn't very convenient.

And yes, they were affected - not much though, just a few bruises here and there, but they had seen what was done to England - by the war.

South Italy raised his hand, for once not insulting Germany's love for potatoes.

"Yes, we have. Is there any chance of this Voldemort getting as powerful as last time?"

England nodded.

"And that is why, nations of the world, I am inviting you to Hogwarts. I know that this comes as a surprise," he added, as the nations began to mutter amongst themselves, "-but I feel that we should relearn magic. Most of us here are decidedly rusty on it. If the Dark Lord really becomes as powerful as he was, we still can defend ourselves and our nations. Yes, Russia?"

The tall Russian spoke, without a trace of his usual childishness.

"How are we going to enter this magic school of yours and Scotland? We are too old."

"You can age up or down to any age you want, if there is a citizen at that age residing in your country."

Russia raised his eyebrows.

"Oh. I suppose that this isn't well known then, seeing as we know not of this."

"Yes. Are there any more questions? Your paperwork will be delivered to Hogwarts by owl, I told my boss about this and in turn he to your bosses."

"How are we going to enter Hogwarts? It would seem weird if a whole lot of transfers suddenly transferred to Hogwarts without any background, wouldn't it?" it was China who spoke.

"That's exactly what I was planning. Everyone has their own magic school, albeit less well-known. And the more experienced in magic will be going as professors."

"All right. I'm in." America.

General agreement ensued around the table.

"I guess it's set then? Fourteen transfers. I'll write to the headmaster... "

Yay, prologue done! How was it? Anyway, the nations going will be:

The G8 (and Romano)

China

Philippines

Singapore

Malaysia

The general rules that apply to the nations about magic will be:

Most spells won't work (some do).

They do die, but it isn't permanent. Just for a few minutes or so, depending on how strong the nation is.

Potions also don't work.

Usually the magic they give out using magic will be quite uneven. Meaning that sometimes they can barely perform, but sometimes they are capable of shattering a whole room just by trying to do a simple spell.

See you!


	2. A Letter and a Trip

**Chapter 1: A Letter and a Trip**

Dumbledore was sitting in his office, minding his own business and talking to the portraits of past headmasters, when an owl came tapping at his window.

Frowning, he opened he window. Usually, letters sent at a time like this were from the Ministry.

But this time, it was from his old friend Arthur Kirkland.

Wonder how he was? It had been a long time, a very long time indeed, since they had talked, owled, whatever.

If his memory was anything to go by, this old friend of his would be very, very old, as old as his beard was long in centimeters.

He opened the letter with a green seal - the seal of the Most Noble and Regal house of Kirkland.

Briefly, he reminisced the times they had spent together. Kirkland was a pureblood from the most famous wizarding family, yet he wasn't prejudiced like the pureblood wizarding families were nowadays. They had been the best of friends, but they lost connection shortly after graduation.

He had a curious interest in History ("If you don't know where your roots came from, you don't know any thing and everything will be for naught," he used to say), which was easily the most boring subject. Professor Binns was still living then, but the lectures weren't any better.

In Arthur's neat, bordering on cursive writing, was written:

_Albus, I have a request for you._

_I have, a few years before, adopted some children - fourteen, in fact - and have told them about Hogwarts. Since the children are all magical and have been in schools all over the world (12 still are), they are clamoring to come to Hogwarts._

_The twelve that are still in school have already asked to transfer to Hogwarts (and given approval). The cheek of them. They're a little hot headed, Albus._

_Anyway, I've heard that the posts for Care of Magical Creatures and History of Magic _(how did he know?)_are open. Could you, by any chance, accept the other two (Ivan Braginsky, from Russia and Arthur Kirkland [yes, I named him after me,thank you very much])for the posts? They requested to be with them, seeing the trouble the lot could do._

_I assure that they are competent. At least, I hope so, after being in school and my drilling._

_Enclosed are the other's names. They will be enrolled into fifth year_.

_Thank you._

_Sincerely,_

_Arthur Kirkland._

Dumbledore sighed.

Twelve new students and two new members of the staff.

Since they had already requested for transferring and Arthur had already asked so politely, he couldn't not decline it.

Oh well. At least he hadn't asked about the Defense position.

\--

"Welcome to Diagon Alley."

The newly-shrunken nations looked around. Even those who had been to Diagon Alley before, as it had been a few decades since they were here.

And boy, had it changed. Not by a lot, but still noticeable.

For one, it seemed a lot older than they remembered. It didn't come as a surprise, seeing as it had been a long time.

Second, there were more shops. There had to be. They didn't remember Fortescuan's Ice-cream Shop, or Flourish and Blotts (where was the old bookstore?).

And there were a lot more people and noise ("Get your new cauldrons here! Only twelve Sickles each!").

With a new curiosity, they began their shopping trip.

First stop was Gringotts, the bank run by goblins.

After the goblins weird look (Vault 1 was, after all, one of the oldest vaults) and the rollercoaster trip (in which America screamed like a 5 year old, earning dirty glares from mist everyone), they came out with a few bags of money, a disgruntled goblin that was questioning its life choices, an angry red ear for America and thirteen dazed nations.

The next was Ollivander's. That shop had been there _forever. _It was there when Diagon Alley first opened.

After a few (hundreds) of "small" incidents (setting fire to everyone's clothes was one of the smallest), they went off, their bags of money hardly dented.

Now came the robes. Madam Malkim's was good - great, really -, though the shop was frugal in appearance. If you ignored the fact that someone nearly blew up the shop. England, being the gentleman he was, tipped the poor owner with a generous amount of money.

Flourish and Blotts passed without any issues. The assistant looked alarmed though, seeing the amount they bought.

After buying anything miscellaneous (cauldrons, scales, brooms and the sort), they arrived at the pet store.

Each of them wanted a "owl, cat or toad", after all.

England (owl, tawny barn) thought that France would buy a toad (not that different from a frog), but he chose an owl (gray with silver patches. Beautiful bird, sadly France chose her).

The Italies opted for a white cat with brown spots on it, while Germany had a small yellow owl (looks like Gilbird but not) and Japan bought a black and white cat.

Canada and America chose an owl, black in colour. Russia bought a rather large white cat.

Singapore and Malaysia bought a gray cat with white feet while Philippines bought an over-excited owl that kept flying around and hitting the cage.

They emerged sometime later, with some scratches and fourteen large smiles upon their faces.

This shopping trip wasn't the most eventful one of all (remember the time when the Commonwealth [including Canada, which doubled the scary-meter] almost waged a full out war over whose food was the best, blowing up the toilets and scaring the shit out of everyone by interrogating them whose food they would rather eat? Yeah, that.), but it was definitely the most memorable one.

\--

Hello! We're not in Hogwarts yet, but we're getting there.

The names are the official and most used ones excluding my OCs Malaysia (Aishah binti Lisboah-Carriedo [since Portugal was the first one who colonized Malaysia or Melaka in my textbook and the fanwiki said it was his surname]) and Singapore (Aloysius Lee, from fanwiki).

The wands aren't some fancy-schmancy wands with double cores and weird woods, but they do correspond with the nation somehow and are quite powerful, hence the "small" accidents.

Surprisingly, it was Japan who nearly blew up the shop. After Ollivander's, the last thing he wanted to do was to get fitted by robes, with tapes that make close contact.

The Commonwealth incident was my mind spazzing out.

See you!


	3. A Train and a Sorting

**Chapter 2: A Train and a Sorting**

They knew it was going to be a weird year when England (Arthur, gonna have to call them like this now) told them to run through the brick wall to get to the station.

Definitely the best idea to put a station in the divider. How was it called Platform 9 3/4 when it was technically 9 1/2, anyway?

\--

After getting to the station (getting run over by the nations after) and getting on the train (steam engines were definitely not environmentally friendly), they managed to squeeze into two compartments (six in each, Ivan and Arthur went to Hogwarts by a different way) with much quarreling and threats of war.

After a while, the train started. And they were off to Hogwarts, the magical school of the British Isles.

The seats were comfy (they had to be, for a few hour's long ride) and it was large enough for six nations to be in (considering their squabbles).

Using the money Arthur gave them, they bought Bertie Bott's Every Flavoured Bean (auto-corrected to bleach) and proceeded to play a game with them.

Malaysia and Singapore had broken out the durian (how?) and were eating it. Thankfully they cast a spell so that the compartment wouldn't smell like durian, which was a great smell, sadly the others didn't like it.

Kiku and the other calmer nations (Matthew and Ludwig) were sleeping amidst the raucous nations.

North Italy was bouncing up and down on his seat while his brother glared at everyone who _dare come close to harm __his __fratellino _while making pizza (again, how?)

The others either made small talk among themselves (more like trying to kill each other) or started quiet, yet noticeable wars (actually trying to kill each other and almost wrecking the train. The students have never been more grateful for the safety wards).

It was a very long trip.

\--

Russia was surprised, really, by Arthur's decision to make him a professor along with him.

He wasn't really _that _good in magic after all, just competent. Most of his magic was centered around grayer parts of magic and local beliefs

Yet, he had a natural affinity with children (although a little scary) and was good with picking up new things.

He was informed that he was to be the Care of Magical Creatures teacher.

Yes, that was a good position. Animals (calling them _creatures _were slightly degrading) were like his children, magical or not.

Dealing with them were fairly easy, their favourite food and a soothing talk were the basics to calming down one.

Before meeting his sisters, he only had General Winter and the local animals for partners in survival, after all.

He was happy to have met the other nations, happy to have met his sisters and happy to find a sunflower field in the land of snow and ice.

\--

Arthur was feeling great. The headmaster had accepted each nation (not that he knew. Even if he knew, he would forget anyway) into Hogwarts.

As his friend, he had never done anything very... _friendly_ to him. Sure, he was a friend to him all right, a friend that stood behind you in battles, waiting to catch you if you fell friend.

Not the kind of friend that stood in front of you, sacrificing himself for you friend.

A supporting character in your life, in everyone's life.

He had chosen to be the History of Magic professor, as as a nation that saw most of magic's development, he wanted to give the students the best education in the subject of History.

After all, if you don't know where your roots came from, you don't know anything and everything will be for naught.

\--

The Sorting commenced shortly after Alfred's freak out about the ghosts ("Mattie! Artie told me that there were ghosts here, but I didn't know how much!").

And as transfer students, they stayed in the back of the line, earning whispers from the other students. (_"Who are they? they look like they're foreigners."_)

Dumbledore cleared his throat and stood.

"This year, we will be having transfer students from North America, mainland Europe and Asia. They will be sorted into each if the houses. Do welcome them."

"Beilschmidt, Ludwig."

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Well that came as a surprise.

"Bonnefoy, Francis."

"SLYTHERIN!"

Definitely.

"Carriedo, Maria!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Eh? She was supposedly more Hufflepuff, but apparently got sorted into Gryffindor.

"Jones, Alfred!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

No surprise.

"Kiku, Honda!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

Okay.

"Lee, Aloysius!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

According to the mean IQ level of Singapore, that fits.

"Lisboah-Carriedo, Aishah!"

_Actually it's "bin Lisboah-Carriedo, Aishah" but whatever. _

"RAVENCLAW!"

Again, she seemed like Hufflepuff material. And it's the third Raven.

"Vargas, Feliciano!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

The hat was alright then.

"Vargas, Lovino!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

Taking back the last sentence.

"Wang, Yao!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

He's quite... ruthless. Good fit.

"Williams, Matthew!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Right.

\--

After the feast and the "illuminating" speech from Professor Umbridge, each student went back to their respective houses.

The nations, however, didn't follow. They were told the passwords of each house (the Hufflepuffs had to be shown the correct sequence though, and the Ravens were told what to expect) and were let be.

They followed the two un-aged-down nations to the Room of Requirement.

Once in, they sat on the floor or cushions and let themselves return to their normal ages.

"So... what are we to expect this year? I don't think that this school is normal, bar being magical."

"For one, unless you took Arithmancy, there are no Maths. (a grimace from Singapore and China. The others were pleased.) Two, the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor seems - is - a downright bitch. Try not to get on her bad side. You'll have to wake up in the middle of the night to get to Astronomy and Divination is potty."

"Oh, oh! I'm the Care of Magical Creatures professor, and the magical friends that I am supposed to care for and teach you about can be dangerous! Also, Herbology will not be a simple walk in the garden. They had to re-pot Mandrakes in their second year."

Canada breathed a sigh of relief. He loved anything that had life in it, and thankfully, Ilvermorny was as good as, if not better than Hogwarts. He and America had dealt with worse things before, but He was better with nature while America was more in his element with spells, hexes, jinxes and the lot.

Philippines let herself fall back into the soft cushions. It seemed like Astronomy fit her, but waking up at midnight wasn't quite what she liked.

Germany was confused. Since Arthur taught History of Magic, it should be challenging. After all, History of Magic in the syllabus seemed like History of Magic Britain.

He could only hope that Hogwarts lessons wouldn't be hour after hour of reading and researching for a mere two point bonus to the grade.

The Italies stayed with their other half. Now that one was in Hufflepuff and the other was in Slytherin, they couldn't see each other as often.

Romano wanted to go to Hufflepuff, but the Hat put him in Slytherin instead, like a joke that Fate often played. Twins do not like to be separated, however much they try to be independent of each other.

Japan tried to hide his despair. He could only hope that cameras work. He was taken aback when he was told that electronic devices do not work at Hogwarts. Not that he was addicted. Aside from the Internet, the really only way to cure his boredom was to practice his sword (katana, if you will) skills. He secretly hoped that the homework would be enough to cure boredom.

With heavy feelings (and goodbyes), the fourteen nations left for the night.

\--

Hello! We're in Hogwarts now!

The Sorting was just me choosing random houses for random characters and trying to justify them. I wanted to put Roma in Hufflepuff, but I realized that Slytherin only had one nation in it and Hufflepuffs were too much.

The plot is quite stagnant right now (I haven't quite figured it out). I'll try to work on character development first with some plot-planning.

See you!


	4. A School Day and a Mark

**Chapter 3: A School Day and a Mark**

The students of each house woke up to a strange side indeed.

In Gryffindor, the blond student from America ("HERO!") was up and practicing poses in the dormitory, on his bed. It was a wonder he didn't fall off.

Meanwhile, the Filipino brunette was sleeping on her bed, with nearly three quarters of her body _not _on the bed. Again, it was a wonder that she didn't fall off.

In Slytherin, the French guy was up and about, trying to get his plain black robes turn "fashionable" somehow, while the grumpy Italian was chiding him (with a "I'm-gonna-fucking-murder-you glare), exasperated look on his face, frazzled curl and somehow getting his robes and underwear mixed up. The Chinese boy (or girl?) sat in a corner, dressed for the day, humming to himself quietly as he watched to madness in front of him.

In Hufflepuff, a bubbly Italian jumped around, waking everyone up. None of the Hufflepuffs were morning people, but his happiness affected all. The stern German tried to get him calm down and _stop waking everyone up _("ITALIEN!")but to no avail, and waking more people up. The quieter Canadian was still asleep, mind you, in this chaos.

In Ravenclaw, the Japanese was up early in the common room practicing his swordsmanship. The other early birds of Ravenclaw watched, mouth agape and eyes widened. The dorm, however, was a different story. The Malaysian girl somehow snuck into the boy's sleeping quarters and was trying to kick the Singaporean out of bed ("Get up! We need to study for the exams."), while he groaned, rolled out and tried to kick her without opening his eyes.

In the teacher's quarters, the British professor was having a nice, quiet morning, sipping his cup of English Breakfast.

After all, when you've had almost the whole world in your house, it was a miracle to even get sleep, nevermind a peaceful morning.

The Russian professor arranged the sunflowers in the vase. Humming a cheerful melody (America would know it as the Tetris Theme, however much he tried to correct that) under his breath, he reached for the lesson plan made the night before and began to try commit it to memory.

\--

Breakfast passed without a hitch (That screaming? Nah, just the History of Magic teacher accidentally setting fire to the salad).

Soon, it was the first History class. Fifth year Hufflepuff with Ravenclaw.

Professor Kirkland started of with a sentence that made everyone cheer, even the Ravens.

"Right, no more troll wars and goblin revolutions!"

And then proceeded with another that made them groan.

"We'll start with a general test, to see how well this class is on basic History."

After the test, Arthur collected the papers, gave them a once-over and sighed under his breath.

"So it seems that most of you aren't really good with the beginnings of magic, how it came to England and the Renaissance. We have a lot to go through. Don't worry, this test won't count in your grade."

The Ravens were nervous. Although they had studied History in the library, most of them didn't know the answer to nearly a quarter of the paper.

Although the nations scored better (they _were _history), they didn't do that well on the older subjects, as they weren't there.

"Magic originated in Ancient Egypt, was popularised by the Greeks and later the Romans... "

\--

Care of Magical Creatures, fifth year Gryffindor and Slytherin

"Professor? Why are you wearing a scarf and such a heavy coat today? It's quite warm today."

Professor Braginsky turned around, a small smile on his face.

"Oh, I'm used to it. Besides, robes are quite... ah, how would you say? Light and breezy, yes they are. The scarf was from my sisters."

So... what have you all been taught? I'd like to know what your experience is. Just last year's and anything else out of expectations, like illegally bred or rare ones."

"In third year, sir, we had hippogriffs."

"Fourth year, unicorns and Blast-ended Skrewts."

"Fire crabs."

"Salamanders."

"Right. The really only use for Blast-ended Skrewts are to seriously harm or annoy people, I don't really see the point in that..."he trailed off.

"We'll be starting with a review on unicorns. Follow me."

He led them through the outer reaches of the forest, to a majestic white unicorn by a tree.

The unicorn had fur so white it gleamed in the mottled light of the forest, and they were sure that it could glow in the night too.

Professor Braginsky seemed to get happier as they neared it.

When they reached the unicorn, he reached into his coat and brought out an apple. The unicorn nuzzled him and took a bite out of the apple.

"This is Ari. She's five years old this year, which means that she was born when you came here. Anybody tell me the usual diet of a unicorn?"

"Fruits, sir, and some kinds of beetles."

"Yes. Five points to Slytherin. Now, what about a sick unicorn?"

\--

"That was the best History of Magic we had. Professor Kirkland had us take a test before though."

"Care of Magical Creatures should be taught just like that! Everything was so wrong with Hagrid's creatures..."

"Excuse me, he was a great teacher!"

After the morning classes, the students gathered in the Great Hall for lunch. All the usual noise was present, and some praise could be heard for the new professors. Of course, some disagreed.

"The Care professor was dressed in Muggle clothing! He cannot be a good teacher."

Arthur had to restrain Ivan to stop him from beating up the Slytherin who said that with his pipe.

"What was the History professor thinking, teaching Muggle history alongside magical..."

This time, Ivan had to restrain Arthur.

The nation-students were bristling. Even though they weren't necessarily on good terms with each other (Cold War, anyone?), they could not stand a mere _human _insulting their fellow nations, even though the students didn't know they were nations.

Nothing of note happened at lunch, which was a miracle.

\--

"What? _High Inquisitor _of Hogwarts? What is the Ministry doing again?"

Were the thoughts of many students.

They had went for dinner the night, only to be stopped by the notice on the board beside the Great Hall.

This happened after Harry Potter's first, and worst Defence Against the Dark Arts of the year.

"She'll run an inspection on each class... oh god."

The nations - especially England and Russia - did _not _like this.

\--

After the feast, Harry went back to the Gryffindor tower.

Stopping by the History of Magic professor's office, he heard some voices inside.

"Every one under you... except for... the Mark. Do you think... harm?"

"When?" Professor Kirkland's voice was eerily quiet.

Harry went closer to the door. This time, he could hear the other voice inside.

The Ravenclaw transfer, Aishah.

The Mark?

Was it the Dark Mark?

Were they Death Eaters?

"Since it all started! It was on everyone you had under... except for Mattie and Alfred."

"I wasn't your colony, yet I still worry about it, as a friend."

Colony?

The new voice was from the Gryffindor, Maria.

"I... I don't know! Nobody told me about this."

"And rightly so. You were going through a hard time there. Coughing up blood every hour is most certainly not a good sign."

Silence.

And then, "We'll talk about this later, Arthur. It's late," from Maria.

Harry jumped out of the way just in time.

The door opened and three transfers came out.

He identified Maria, Aishah and Aloysius.

Aloysius had his left sleeve rolled up.

On his left forearm, the Dark Mark could be seen, as black as night and clear as day.

\--

Ooh, we're finally getting somewhere in terms of plot!

I'd like to clarify the tests being counted into the grade thing.

In my school, everything is marked, except for lunch (obviously). The categories in each subject are class conduct (discipline), homework attitude (how your homework is), class participation (whether or not you're active in class), tests (pop quizzes and class tests), notes (you'll have to pass them in for the teacher to mark) and end of term exams (twice a year).

Each subject's marking system is slightly different, but homework, tests and the exams are a huge part. The tests are made and graded by the respective teachers in each subject.

The passing grade (averaging every subject's average) is 60. Failure to meet that score, having a discipline score below 70 (again, an average) and/or failing the three languages (Malay, Chinese and English) will result in being forced to retake the year.

Guest reviewer: Really? I never knew! Since Philippines is a popular OC, I just decided to put her in. I'll keep the albularios and island witches in mind, then. I'll put them in another chapter.

See you!


	5. A Potions Class and a Meeting

**Chapter 4: A Potions Class and ****a Meeting **

Harry ran, blood thundering in his ears.

What had he just seen?

The transfers were Death Eaters, they had the Dark Mark!

And possibly the new teachers too. Professor Kirkland was in there, wasn't he? He knew (or did he not? He had said that "no one told" him, yet he was "going through a hard time", which could mean that he was hard-pressed not to be found out as a Death Eater) that the transfers were Death Eaters.

And possibly Professor Braginsky too.

He had to get to Dumbledore.

Why were the best always the worst?

Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that he had forgotten something.

\--

If anyone asked how Matthew Williams, better known as Canada's day was, the answer would be a curt "shut up".

He had History of Magic first thing in the morning, and while History was the best subject (according to him), History of Wizarding Britain was not.

England was a great teacher, yes, but he knew most of the course already.

When the class progressed into Wizarding Britain, it was politics, politics, and more politics.

Sure, how leaders decided matters, what influenced them and such were important (he himself was one, heck, every nation was), but History wasn't politics.

The class was _boring_. And accidentally setting fire to his robes one too many times (seven times, in fact) did not contribute.

\--

Hermione Granger liked the new teacher.

He was warm to them and the magical creatures they were supposed to study, with the exception of Malfoy. (He deserved that kick from Ari, anyway. He mocked Professor Braginsky's choice of clothing and put him down as "Muggle-lover". Not that it was bad really, but he sounded so... pure-bloodish.)

Speaking of clothing, it was a warm autumn. 26 Celsius. Why was he wearing those?

The scarf looked old, yet well taken care of. It certainly was precious to him, that scarf that his sisters gave him.

The coat... she had spotted some questionable, faded stains on it. Maybe from dealing with the magical creatures?

The world may never know.

\--

Double Potions with Gryffindor and Slytherin was always a drag.

Especially if it was a fifth year class. The rivalry had had time to ferment over the years, and teenage hormones were excessive.

Severus Snape did not like the fifth year students, the lot of dunderheads who did not appreciate the art of Potions.

Oh yes, it was an art superior to all others.

\--

The Potions Master had given the fifth years instructions for the Draught of Peace, and was currently making rounds in the dungeon, correcting the idiots who made mistakes. ("Lower the flames before adding hellebore, Mr. Bonnefoy.")

"There should be a light silvery mist rising from your cauldrons by now. Let it simmer for seven minutes and after that, bottle it, label clearly with your names and submit them. Longbottom, that potion is not the Draught of Peace. Twenty points off Gryffindor."

He glanced to the Gryffindor side of the room and was pleasantly surprised.

Hermione Granger, the insufferable know-it-all, had obviously completed the potion. That he wasn't surprised of.

No, it was the fact that Maria Carriedo, the transfer from Philippines had made a perfect, if not better than perfect potion. The American was not so far off, but he could see that he had added a little too much powdered moonstone.

Glancing over to Slytherin, the French and Italian transfers had made barely passable concotions, wheras the Chinaman's potion was textbook perfection.

The potions course in China and Ilvermorny had already taught this particular potion, but the Philippines?

...Actually, he hadn't heard of a magical school in the Philippines.

He glided towards the Filipino's cauldron.

"Miss Carriedo, can you tell me how you managed to create a potion better than those idiots in this class?"

Yes, he didn't like Gryffindor. But he knew talent when he saw it.

And this was a prodigy.

"Sir, back home I frequented the albularios in my area. Albularios are expert potion-makers, and they taught me how to make the more common potions."

Continuing, she said, "while the instructions to stir seven times each clockwise and counterclockwise were not wrong, I find that six times each with another once each makes for a better result."

The fifth year class gaped. The transfers clapped.

\--

Nighttime. Harry had convinced Hermione ("But they look like good people!" "You can't be too careful, 'Mione.") and Ron ("Yeah. That group looks suspicious.") to follow the transfers and new teachers to the Room of Requirement under the Invisibility Cloak.

Pacing thrice opposite the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy teaching trolls ballet, Alfred F. Jones of Gryffindor opened the door that magically appeared.

The nations went in through the door, without noticing the Golden Trio under the Invisibility Cloak sneaking in.

The door closed with a bang.

As it was, the nations returned to their original states, with much confusion ("What the fuck America, don't sit on me!" "Sorry dude, didn't see you there.")

The Golden Trio were in much confusion. Much confusion indeed.

The transfers were adults? This might explain their advanced knowledge (but not unstable power) in magic.

But why would they willingly shrink down to children to attend Hogwarts?

The teachers, too, we're suspicious. Professor Braginsky was a tad too Muggle-ish (good thing, but still) and Professor Kirkland's teaching methods were quite... what Hermione had experienced (Harry's school life weren't sunshine and rainbows, after all).

The obvious answer was, of course, that they were Death Eaters. Duh.

But something was forgotten.

\--

The meeting started out with the usual chatter and chaos. After Germany's outburst ("SHUT UP!"), it commenced.

"Inghilterra told us about the... issue," North Italy started, hesitating.

"That's right. Now, how many of you have the Dark Mark other than the Commonwealth? I need to be sure how many were affected so badly they had it branded too."

_Affected? _

Francis was the first to raise his hand. He was followed by the Italian twins, Ludwig and Ivan.

"...I had no idea it was _that _serious. Shit."

"England, they're getting clearer. Ever since last year... it hurt so much then."

_What did Braginsky call Kirkland? Nah, nevermind__._

"I know. No need to state the obvious. But why weren't America and Canada affected though?"

"Maybe because we'd already gotten independence for a long time?"

"Yeah. Maybe that."

"What are we going to do now?"

"I don't know. Nobody knows. We just have to act accordingly. Send warnings back to your countries. Tell them to be on the lookout for anything suspicious."

"That's surprisingly good advice, coming from you."

"Excuse me, _frog._"

The meeting descended into chaos after that.

\--

"What do they mean, 'affected so badly they had it branded too'? Surely getting a Mark would mean that they were willing to," Ron said after entering the Gryffindor common room.

The transfers were in the dormitories.

"I thought they were good people... to answer your question, Ron, they didn't say it. Where did you hear that from?" Hermione.

"They didn't? Oh yeah, now I wonder why I heard that. Never mind. How are we going to deal with this now?"

"I don't think we should straight-up tell them we know, or cause suspicion to us. We should just carry on, but keep an eye on them."

With that, they parted for the night.

\--

Here comes the plot!

America and Canada didn't have the Dark Mark, since they had already declared independence from England for so long. The only nations that have the Dark Mark are the Commonwealth nations that have declared independence for less than 100 years and European countries I think that were affected by the Wizarding Wars.

That's all I have for now.

See you!


	6. Of Howlers, Pyromania and Pre-detentions

Chapter 5: Of Howlers, Pyromania and Pre-detentions

England was not happy. Not happy at all.

First the Commonwealth - they were like his children! - and then the other nations!

He needed an aspirin, or better, a generous measure of brandy.

But he was in school, and schools don't allow alcohol. He doubted he could get aspirin anywhere else anyway.

The day's lessons passed by in a blur, and he retired for the day.

The next morning, the groggy professor stumbled into the Great Hall. It didn't matter, really, since it was 6:30 in the morning and the only ones who were up looked worse than him.

After consuming a full gallon more than what was considered than healthy for humans of tea to finally wake up, it was 7 and the students had begun streaming into the Great Hall.

He waved to the nations (ignoring Russia's creepy laugh beside him - it was actually welcome, reminding him of a time where everything was well and dandy). Were those looks Harry and Co. giving him funny?

Nah.

At 7:30, the owls flew through the doors.

He didn't mind it - he loved owls - but the Great Hall had suddenly quietened down.

He looked up.

A feathered harbringer of doom was flying towards him, ominous red letter in beak.

It was deposited on his empty plate. Almost immediately, the letter began to smoke.

"No no no no no. Fuck this."

He grabbed the letter, bolted out of the door and went back to his room - or so he wished.

But no. The Howler exploded just before his fingers touched the envelope.

"ARTHUR FUCKING JAMES KIRKLAND! YOU FUCKING DOBBER, WHAT WERE YOU THINKING, GOING OFF WITH YOUR MERRY BAND OF FRIENDS LIKE THAT?! YER OFF YER HEAD, I TELL YOU."

The nations (except England and Russia, who was sitting in close proximity) stifled laughter.

"JUST WAIT TILL YOU GET BACK. I'LL FLAY YOU ALIVE, YE FUCKIN' BAMPOT."

Minerva Mcgonagall looked impressed, yet appalled at the use of language.

"NO WAIT. I'VE GOT A BETTER IDEA."

England groaned. Allistor's ideas were not in the least good. For England.

"I'LL BE COMING HERE AND BE BRINGIN' DYLAN, PATRICK AND SEAMUS."

Fuck.

"AND FUCK IF I CARE ABOUT HOW YOU FEEL ABOUT THIS. WE'RE STILL YOUR OLDER BROTHERS AND YOU SHOULD LISTEN TO US."

This is why he never listened to them. Their ideas were bad.

The Howler burst into flames and crumbled into ashes.

Deadly silence.

A moment after, the Great Hall was filled with laughter and chatter again, returning to normal.

"Hey, has anyone seen Mattie? Y'know, that Hufflepuff that looks like me?"

A voice was heard over the din. Alfred looked nervous.

"He ran right out of the Hall after the Howler," a student told him.

Shit.

Alfred looked around, caught Arthur's and Francis' attention and motioned them to get out.

The sun was just beginning to rise in its full glory. The clouds were dyed red, pink and maybe before fading into the still-starry night sky.

Yet, the FAE family had no time to spare.

They had to find Canada before the whole school was set on fire.

When had it started? They had assumed around the Burning of Washington in 1812.

England was the first to know, the first to see the fire raging in his then-colony's eyes.

August 24, 1812

England led Canada to the White House, burning torch in hand.

"See, Canada, you just have to help me burn down this building, it'll be a great help to us."

The young colony blinked once, owlishly.

"Do I really 'ave to?"

"Yes. It'll reduce the morale of the rebels and we'll win this war."

That, of course, was a lie.

Canada took the torch in his hands. The White House stood above it, gleaming in all its glory.

He placed the torch - almost gently - on the structure.

That night, he saw his brother's face, widened eyes filled with horror.

That night, he was important.

That night, he was noticed.

They found Matthew outside, at the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

He had a lighter in a hand and a can of gasoline - how he got it, nobody knew - in the other.

Francis drew in a breath, and was about to speak, when suddenly, Canada lit the lighter and lit the gasoline-soaked tree.

In an instant, fire blazed into life, swallowing the tree's to extend its.

In Canada's eyes, he saw the night's glory, saw himself, the nation of Canada, not the barren wasteland above the land of the free and home of the brave, America.

He saw himself as the conductor of a great piece of music, not as one of the back-seat musicians. He saw creation.

In America's eyes, he saw the night's pain, saw his brother, Canada burn his capital down. He saw destruction.

With England, he saw the night's Canada, not the colony he once ruled over, but the Canada that struck fear in each army's heart.

As for France, he mainly regretted that he let Angleterre colonize his mon petit Matthieu, regretted that he was not there to guide him into becoming a great nation.

What would have happened if he won that war against England?

Canada turned around with a borderline insane grin on his face.

He walked towards America.

One step, two steps.

America backed away.

One step, two steps.

"Remember, brother? When I burned down your oh-so-precious capital?"

America nodded weakly, fear apparent in his eyes.

"I remembered that feeling. That feeling of power. I could inflict pain on anyone I liked, I wouldn't be IGNORED EVEN THOUGH I PLAYED THE MOST IMPORTANT PART!"

Matthew - no, Canada - had increased his volume from a whisper to yelling.

"And I told myself - nay, saw that - fire gave power, and I was better off playing with it."

"Funny, huh, how the barren wasteland of snow and ice loves fire?"

He laughed at the jest. The lonely, manical laugh carried and dispersed in the air.

America backed away from his brother.

Was that even his brother?

No. It was Canada. It was Canada, not Matthew.

The European nations decided to step in. France knocked Canada out with a simple hit to his jaw (Stupefy doesn't work) and England carried him to the Hospital Wing.

America, still in shock, was also taken to the Hospital Wing by Francis.

Thank god nobody was watching.

Or were there?

\--

After Madam Pomfrey fussed over the twins (Matthew: "How in the world could he have got these burns?" Alfred: "You look traumatized, my dear. Care to speak about it?" to which he shook his head), Matthew's next lesson was Defence, and Alfred, Ancient Runes.

His Defence Against Dark Arts were taken with the Ravenclaws, which meant that he would be seeing the Axis, Aishah and Aloysius in class.

When the nations opened the door, the colour pink assaulted them.

Now, pink was a good colour, if used in _moderation_.

This was an abomination.

Adding to it was another pink toad sitting behind the teacher's desk.

Kiku wanted to throw up. He liked the colour pink (secretly), but this...

Once the lesson was completed, he would go wash his eyes out with bleach.

Umbridge cleared her throat with the annoying cough (_"Hem, hem.")_ and said, "Good morning, class!"

The Asian nations, being used to this, replied with a "Good morning, Professor."

After all, they respected her as a teacher, as an _educator, _but not so as a person. Respect was where respect was due.

The rest of the class either mumbled a "good morning" or ignored her.

She frowned. "Now, class, I expect you to reply with a 'Good morning, Professor Umbridge,' when I greet you. Let's try again. Good morning class!"

"Good morning Professor Umbridge."

"There, that's better, isn't it? Another thing. I also expect you to raise your hand if you want to ask or state something. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Professor Umbridge."

"Well now, your teaching in this subject has been rather disrupted and fragmented, hasn't it? The constant changing of teachers, many of whom do not seem to have followed any Ministry-approved curriculum, has unfortunately resulted in your being far below the standard we would expect to see in your O.W.L. year. You will be pleased to know, however, that these problems are now to be rectified. We will be following a carefully structured, theory-centred, Ministry-approved course of defensive magic this year."

A student raised his hand.

"Yes, Mr...?"

"Feldt, Professor. How are we going to get past the practical part in the OWLs?"

"Very well, Mr. Feldt. As long as you study the theory, you will have no problem in performing the spells required. I hope that answers your question."

"But, Professor Umbridge-"

"Hand!"

Aloysius raised his hand.

"Aloysius Lee, Professor Umbridge. How are you so sure that we are able to perform spells in the exam, as the first time performing them?"

"As I said, Mr. Lee, you should have no trouble casting the spells as long as you study the theory-"

"Have you ever heard of a fire drill, Professor?"

Umbridge's face was slightly red, her voice straining to keep up the "sweet" tone.

"No, Mr. Lee. Is that a Muggle thing?"

"Yes, it is. It is-"

"If it is a Muggle procedure, it is not relevant to this lesson and-"

"-a method used in Muggle schools every year to make sure the students know what to do in the face of fire."

"Mr. Lee-"

"This is compulsory in each school. The Muggle students, after hearing the fire alarm, will proceed to the nearest exit to the school field, and will be scored based on how efficient the evacuation was."

"Mr. Lee, if you continue, I will have to invite you to leave the classroom."

"If this drill isn't performed, what would the students do if there is a fire? They would scatter, thus increasing the death toll and injuries sustained."

"MR. LEE!"

Singapore stopped and finally acknowledged Umbridge.

"Yes, Professor Umbridge?"

"I'm afraid that I'll have to give you detention, and ten marks from Ravenclaw."

He opened his mouth to make his point clearer, but before he could, he felt both Malaysia and Japan kick his shins under the table.

He relented. "I'm sorry, professor."

"Come here. I'll refer you to Professor Flitwick."

He walked over. Umbridge opened the clasp of her (again, pink) handbag and took out a roll of (pink) parchment.

She stretched out the parchment and wrote something on it.

"There. Now run along."

\--

When Aloysius reached Professor Flitwick's office, he knocked and pushed open the door without waiting for a reply.

He saw Arthur and Flitwick inside, discussing who-knows-what.

"Aloysius! You gave me a heart attack right there, coming in so suddenly! What's the matter?" Arthur was surprised. Wasn't Singa supposed to be at DADA?

"Professor Umbridge gave me detention. Here."

He handed the parchment to Professor Flitwick. The short professor's eyebrows creeped higher and higher as he read.

"Well, Mr. Lee. I never would have expected you to back talk a teacher."

"I'm sorry."

"Take a seat, Mr. Lee. Professor Kirkland and I were discussing the pros and cons of Muggle technology and whether or not wizards should adopt the them."

"Take - what did you say, professor?"

"Take a seat, Aloy. I've told you that teacher was a downright bitch anyway."

"Arthur."

"I know, I know," he waved a hand. "I'm just stating a fact."

"Mr. Lee, Professor Umbridge has given you detention with her, after dinner, eight o'clock sharp."

"Alright."

"Please don't anger her any further, Singa. I don't think Aishah would like you spending more time with Umbridge rather than her."

"Shut up."

\--

"Out of all of us, the last one I would've thought of that would get detention is you, Singa. Care to explain?"

In the Great Hall, Aloysius told the other nations that he had detention with Umbridge that night.

Kiku spoke up.

"Basically, he told the professor about fire drills in our schools since she told us that we were not going to perform spells in class."

"I still think that's dumb. You can't do a perfect spell at your first try, which will be during exams. Everyone'll fail the subject."

"_Kiasu._"

"For a good reason."

"Harry's told Hermione about his detention with her. I'd advise you to write with your left hand and turn off your healing during it."

"What?"

"Just do it. It won't kill."

\--

Hello! The "Canada is a pyromaniac" headcannon was took from Tale of the New World Twins by itthefantasticfanatic, which is a great writer!

_Kiasu _is the common stereotype by Malaysians for Singaporeans, which, translated literally, means "scared to lose".

Scottie's coming! And I'm digging myself into a deeper hole (I still haven't done the inspections yet, oops!)

See you!


	7. Of Detentions, Inspections and Newcomers

**Chapter 6: Of Detentions, Inspections and Newcomers**

The nation of Singapore was not amused. That bitch Umbridge assigned him to _detention _of all things, at night no less, when he could have been in the library studying for his tests.

Granted, they were few and far between, but the term-end exam was a mere three months away.

7:30. He'd better go now, seeing the fuckery the school itself did. Not including Peeves the poltergeist.

He arrived at her office five minutes before eight, catching his breath outside (2 minutes), opening the door (half a minute, his fingers couldn't work somehow), gaping at the room (2 minutes. It was _pure pink, _with pictures of kittens on the walls, mewling. He supposed the kittens wanted to get out) and making his way towards the desk (half a minute).

He sat down just as the bell tower tolled the first _d__ong _out of eight.

"Well, Mr. Lee, I see you're punctual. At least you wouldn't have to write another 'I must not be late', then."

Was that disappointment in her eyes?

"What should I do?"

"Oh, you'll just be writing some lines. You'll have to write 'I must not talk back to my professor'."

"How many times?"

"As many as it takes to _sink in_."

He suddenly regretted his outburst in class.

He took out his quill and ink (really, they were so _archaic)_, but Umbridge shook her head.

"No, no. You shall use my quill."

She handed a long, unnaturally sharp black quill to him.

...Alright.

"What about ink, professor?"

"Oh no. You won't need it."

Fuck. What had he gotten himself into?

He gripped the quill in his left hand (he still wasn't used to them. They kept making him sneeze) and wrote the first letter on the parchment.

A sharp pain on his right forearm.

What the fuck?

He rolled up his right sleeve gingerly.

The letter "I" was cut into his forearm, bleeding the crimson red the ink on the parchment was.

For a fleeting moment, he considered enabling his nation healing again.

See, nation healing was what made them able to fight in many, many wars, yet not have the kinds of injuries that normal humans would sustain (amputated limbs, bullet and/or shell blast wounds and the sort).

Yet, if the nations were in a time of turmoil (major wars, revolutions, civil wars etc.), nation healing would slow down, and maybe just... stop.

Which had caused the downfall of many former empires.

It did not work on scars, which was why battle scars on nations were common. Usually, nations would unconciously activate nation healing, just for a sense of safety.

He had seen much worse things than this cut. But why was he scared?

Maybe because that he knew now that this kind of torture instrument existed, forcing people to cut words into their skin over and over again.

Maybe it was the knowledge that teachers could torture their students with - he looked up - a smile on their face, watching him while sipping tea.

"Well? What are you waiting for?"

He gritted his teeth. He would _not _let the Ministry bitch have satisfaction.

He continued writing. After a while, the pain faded, but he supposed it was him getting used to it (and experience during the wars).

After a while, Umbridge told him to stop, and show her his arm.

Thank god Aishah told him to write using his left hand. He would have to get _nasi __lemak _for her later.

How he hated and loved her, the headstrong girl who tried to stop Imperial Japan from invading his land (but to no avail), the nation who also shunned him for his Chinese population (it was the then Prime Minister, actually, but she had become colder and colder to him).

\--

"_Who _is inspecting _who? _"

"Yeah, you heard that right. Umbridge is starting inspection today, on Professor Flitwick."

"We're all doomed. Esther! prepare my funeral. I'd like lilies on my grave, thanks."

"Oh shut it."

The Great Hall was filled with chatter, but more low mutters about the upcoming inspection.

At the teacher's table, Professor Flitwick was fidgeting, nervous. Umbridge, however, beamed around the hall in her sickeningly sweet smile.

God. Aloysius could still remember the detention from the previous day. The already-healed wounds (he had reactivated nation healing the moment he left that room) we're twinging with phantom pain.

The fifth year Ravenclaws had Charms with Flitwick today, which meant that they would also see Umbridge in the same lesson.

That was enough to make them irritated for the day.

\--

"So, how did the inspection go?"

"Eh. Umbridge asked some questions to both us and Flitwick. She seemed to not like his height though. She measured Flitwick's height, just to see if he wasn't half-dwarf."

"We have Potions later, with Slytherin. Reckon she'll be in the class?"

"Dunno. I'm due for Arithmancy later, anyway. See you at Runes."

\--

Alfred frowned as he made his way (downtown) to the dungeons. Potions were easy for him, of course (just that he wasn't the best in precision). His magic school ranked high on the list of Best Potions Classes in the World, after all.

But he wasn't too happy with how it was taught, and this year's Defence.

Defence Against the Dark Arts sounded so heroic anyway, why would the classes itself be so... bland?

Just this year's. He had heard that the last two years' classes were much more exciting.

Seriously, _theory? _

He had never agreed more with Austria. ("You cannot play an instrument well if you haven't even picked it up or pressed a key, even if you are the best in musical theory.")

Reaching the entrance, he walked in.

\--

The first thing Lovino saw upon walking into the Potions classroom (he wasn't very good at it. Feliciano was better, since he had better sense of time passed since making that potion and whether or not the for should be lowered. He was better at Herbology.) was pink.

He groaned.

He had already heard from Kiku about the inspection on Flitwick, but he didn't expect the pink toad in the morning.

_Dio help me._

Trying to ignore the pink cagna's diabetic-inducing grin, he walked over to his cauldron and waited for the class to start.

\--

7:00 pm was dinnertime.

The noise created by the students were normal, the food wasn't poisoned, everything was normal (excluding for maybe the Golden Trio's stalking, eyes trained on the nations' every move).

So why did something feel off?

That question was answered by Professor Kirkland groaning at the Head Table.

Ivan Braginsky raised an eyebrow.

"What are you thinking?"

"My brothers are coming."

"Today?"

"Allistor never specified, but I have the feeling it's today."

The heavy doors opened with a bang.

A redhead with electric green eyes followed by three blonds stood there.

Arthur Kirkland fainted.

\--

Okay, this is basically a filler, but the English bros are here!


	8. Of Brothers, Scones and Parseltounge

**Chapter 7: Of Brothers, Scones and Parseltounge**

When Professor Kirkland woke up with a jerk (effectively hitting the forehead of a certain red head in the process), he found himself in the Hospital Wing.

And when he saw who was beside his bed (his brothers), he passed out for the second time again.

"Seriously, you should have _seen _his face!"

"Ron, you shouldn't laugh at someone's misfortune. Even if they're supposed to be Death Eaters."

"But still-"

"No."

\--

When the fifth years arrived at History of Magic, they weren't expecting one of the newcomers (blond, resembling Professor Kirkland but with a lot more curls in it) to be where Kirkland usually was.

"Gather up now, do stop gawking... god, is this what Artie goes through everyday? Gosh, I almost feel sorry for him... "

"Right. Since your _dear _Professor Kirkland (he chortled under his breath) isn't exactly fit to teach, I'll be substituting for today. Where have y'all got to?"

Muted muttering and a sudden frenzy to find notes.

"The Middle Ages, sir, why magic was oppressed then and how legislation for magic worked."

"Oh. Right. Now, who can tell me why was it oppressed?"

\--

Ivan Braginsky drew a chair up to Arthur's bedside.

The History of Magic professor was sound asleep - either from the shock that his brothers, his biggest bullies then and now were here and his life was going to be a lot more harder, or that he had stayed up all night, for which reason escaped Russia.

He looked peaceful for once.

Russia had never seen such a peaceful, yet tired, _so very tired _expression on the Brit's face.

It had always been during world meetings, either trying to speak some sense into a certain American while arguing with France, or during wars, where he just didn't have time for peaceful sleep.

Even though they wouldn't admit it, each nation was entwined closely with all the others, and the others them.

None were on their own.

\--

Draco Malfoy had juicy, juicy blackmail on the American (they were American, weren't they?) twins.

The 'hero' Alfred F. Jones of the house of the brave, scared of Matthew Williams (why did they have different surnames?) of the house of the weak!

Oh and the Hufflepuff was a pyromaniac, which added to the value.

He had seen the fear in Alfred's eyes that morning, when the first tree had been wrapped in a death embrace by the fire.

He had _felt, _rather than seen, Matthew Williams' triumph and satisfaction around the area, suffocatingly thick.

He didn't remember what was said then, but he knew that the professor and the French transfer in his house had knocked them out and taken them to the Hospital Wing just before it got worse than it was already.

Blackmail was the ultimate weapon.

And he wasn't going to give this weapon up.

\--

"Okay, what is up with the scones?"

The next day, the usual scones on the breakfast table looked... inedible.

Charred and burnt (alright, burnt scones were fine), they had some sort of gas coming out, which vaguely resembled potion vapours.

No one dared eat them.

Except for the blond Gryffindor transfer.

The transfers, unlike the students (who had just looks of disgust and turned away from the scones), had very... adverse reactions to them (except for the one still eating the scones. Really?")

"Ve~ Luddy, I'm scared! Has _Inghilterra _infiltrated the kitchen?"

The younger Italian transfer clung on to the German (who had moved seats far, far away from the scones the second they appeared).

"Goddammit scone bastard. Why are you still making these?"

"_Angleterre_, your cooking skills are as bad as ever."

"And this is why I cooked while I was in his house. At least my food is edible."

"Just ignore it, for fucks sake."

The England they were talking about was nowhere to be seen.

If asked later, he would claim that he was in his room, drawing up lesson plans.

One of the newcomers grinned.

\--

"_Hello, Dylan. What are you doing here?"_

_"Oh you know, the usual. Pissing off Arthur-"_

_"That's not a really brotherly thing to do, is it?"_

_"Pfft, our whole family doesn't really uphold 'brotherly'."_

_"I worry for his sanity."_

_"You should have, around two thousand years ago."_

_"Metaphorically?"_

_"Metaphorically."_

Wales stood up.

The small snake that he was conversing with slithered away, probably finding some place to hibernate, since it was nearing winter already.

Parseltounge was usually inherited, but some people learned it.

Needless to say, it paid off. Snakes were the biggest gossipers, and anything that happened around the castle was passed around almost instantly.

However, with the recent "Parseltounges were bad, all of them are Dark!" assumption (courtesy of Voldemort, really, the guy was _annoying)_, the few Parseltounges had been forced to hide their acquired ability.

Nations had a natural penchant for learning languages, since most of them had a lot of immigrants.

And snakes were all over the world.

Which meant most, if not all knew Parseltounge.

He frowned.

He had to tell the nations here to not talk to snakes that came across their way in public.

He hoped that they hadn't already done it. Northern Ireland was subbing for England today ("We can't let the students miss out on their education."), and hopefully Scot hadn't taken the scones found in England's house here.

...Oh who was he kidding.

He could hear two snakes whispering about the "scone incident" at breakfast.

Oh well. He had a mission to do.

Turning, he went back to the school, not noticing that behind the tree, a certain trio pulling off the Invisibility Cloak covering them.

\--

Wales knows Parseltounge~ and the Golden Trio knows!

Ooh, what's gonna happen now?

Short chapter this morning. I'm off to piano exam today. I'll update later in the day, though.


	9. Of Dark Arts, Patronuses and Plots

**Chapter 8: Of Dark Arts, Patronuses** **and Plots **

The newcomers were definitely in league with the new professors and transfers-!

Hermione didn't know what to feel. The teachers were nice (better than Professor Lupin, and that was saying a _lot_), the transfers were okay (friendly), but the newcomers...

One of them had been a sub for Kirkland, though. Surely an educator so good couldn't be bad?

Then again, there was Dolores Umbridge. That... that not-pretty in pink _toad _of a woman was an educator, but look at the classes.

Dylan Kirkland, brother of Arthur Kirkland was a Parselmouth, which meant that Arthur possibly was too, and (not including Harry) speaking to snakes had always been a sign of Dark ancestry.

But no thinking about this anymore. She had people to invite into DA.

Should she invite the transfers?

\--

They entered the Room of Requirement.

The transfers were there too, looking around and talking ("This room's changed!")

amongst themselves.

Harry didn't want them to be there, but they definitely wouldn't sneak to Umbridge (they definitely didn't like the Ministry toad), so all was well.

They started with the Shield Charm.

\--

Later that night, Ron made his way to Professor Ivan's room.

He had to spy on him, just to be sure of the assumption that the teacher was bad.

Just to make sure.

He heard screaming.

It sounded like Braginsky?

\--

Behind the closed door, Russia was startled.

Of course he would. His little sister's head did just pop out of the fire.

Not that he was scared or anything.

No.

He was startled.

"Big brother! Norway told me that we could communicate like this! Now we can be together forever!"

"Go away!"

"Marry me!"

Thinking quickly, he poured water on the fire head, putting it out.

...On second thoughts, it wasn't a wise decision.

He was doomed.

\--

Hermione passed by the History of Magic Professor's room.

She could see purple mist seeping out of the door crack - Dark Arts?

She glanced around, and looked inside.

Hermione was shocked.

Inside, Arthur Kirkland wasn't really what caught her attention.

It was the great glowing pentagram circle in the middle of the room, emitting purple mist.

His eyes were closed - mumbling something under his breath?

She stood there for a moment.

She had read about this, all right - it seemed like one of the summoning rituals (she didn't know which though), which was incredibly Dark, if the pentagram was anything to go by.

She turned and fled.

\--

Arthur needed a way to communicate the other magical nations.

The owls were alright, but they ran the risk of being caught and the letter read.

Floo wasn't reliable too, it was traceable.

No, he needed a fail-proof way of talking to the others.

Which was why he found himself here, doing a ritual so ancient it was probably first used by a child Britannia, his mother.

Wand waving and short incantations wouldn't do here.

He had to create a portal for letters to go through to any of the nation's homes.

As he performed the ritual, he never saw the door crack open slightly - ever so slightly.

\--

Dumbledore stared at the moving portraits in his office.

Never had he felt so conflicted before.

He had hired the professors and accepted the transfers on his old friend's request, but now he was regretting the choice.

Harry had come earlier, saying that the students were Death Eaters, and the teachers too.

But he couldn't throw them out based on Harry's word, could he?

They seemed like decent people, but Dumbledore couldn't shake the feeling that they were hiding something.

\--

France had went with the DA (they had invited him, even though he was a Slytherin) and frankly, he was more than surprised.

Today, they had learnt the Patronus Charm.

His was a rooster - the majestic rooster. Matthieu's was an exact replica of Kumajiro, his pet polar bear.

Alfred's was, obviously, a bald eagle. He didn't know what England's was, but he felt that it was a robin - it was quite common in England, after all. He saw a giant panda coming from China's wand.

The Italian twin's were both wolves. It was surprising, really. Germany's was a black eagle, much like the bird on Prussia's flag. Japan produced a koi Patronus.

Philippines also produced an eagle patronus - really, what was up with the birds of prey today? Malaysia created a silvery tiger and Singapore's was a merlion - typical.

He saw the Trio giving them strange looks, but he brushed it off.

Maybe it was because corporeal Patronuses were rare.

\--

"That's odd. Dark wizards shouldn't be able to produce Patronuses."

"We haven't confirmed that they are evil, Harry."

"But only Death Eaters have Dark Marks!"

"Wait and see, Harry. Wait and see."

\--

"Wormtail."

"Yes, Master?"

"Do you know of the nations?"

"What are they?"

"You see, Wormtail, they are immortal beings that represent countries."

"Im- immortal beings, you say, Master?"

"Yes, Wormtail. I think that they're the key to me acquiring immortality."

"What am I to do, Master?"

"You are to scout out the most powerful nation and bring them to me."

\--

Finally! The plot's been stagnant for _so _long.

Who is the most powerful nation? How does Voldemort plan on achieving immortal life using them?

Until then,

See you!


	10. Of Danger, Conflict and Doubt

**Chapter 9: Of Danger, Conflict and Doubt**

"Actually England, why are we here? We could defend ourselves just fine with our magic."

The nations were once again in the Room of Requirement.

"I suppose I never explained it clearly then," he sighed.

"Look, we are known to the world, but nobody knows who exactly are we, except for our rulers."

"As you know, Voldemort wants to be immortal. Humans can do many, many things to achieve what they want. China, you should know that."

China nodded gravely. One of his emperors had decided to bury him alive to somehow get immortality. Needless to say, it didn't work. Dying was a great pain, resurrecting even more so.

And China had scared the shit out of the emperor that believed that he was dead.

Good times.

"That didn't answer the question."

"I'm coming to it! Jeez, have some bloody patience."

"So you see, Voldemort is an _English _\- or Scottish, shut up - wizard that uses _English _spells. Each of you will have to know what kind of spells, _how _they affect you and the likes. You cannot fight a enemy you do not know of."

"Many cultures have their own kinds of magic that each of you are the best in. Knowing what kind of damage he'll cause using English magic can help you prevent disaster before it happens."

"Right. Back to him trying to achieve immortality. What d'you think he'll do?"

It was Scotland who answered.

"Kidnap one of us. For some reason, a lot of people nab people who have the things they want."

"How does he expect to get it? I mean, it isn't possible to rob something that isn't physical, is it?"

"No. But look at Kuma. He's been with Canada since we found him, non?"

Canada looked up, startled.

"I mean... I did make him my partner... oh. Oh. _That?_"

"Yes."

"Wait, wait! What's _that?"_"America. Nations can share immortality with any living being by making them our partner. I thought you knew."

"Which means that he could _force _us to make him our partners? Not cool dude!"

"Exactly, America."

"Scotland, but why does he torture and kill non-pureblood wizards and witches and normal people like the... the Holocaust?"

"Fuck if I know. Let's go. It's almost midnight."

\--

"Now, students! What do you see?"

In the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest, a Care of Magical Creatures class was going on.

The huge chunk of meat on the ground was disappearing. Piece by piece, it looked like some few things were chewing on it.

To most students at least.

A few students raised their hands. Ivan Braginsky counted one, two, three, four, five. His eyes automatically skipped over the other five nations.

Five students in his class who have seen death.

"Very well. I did not expect so many to see them."

"How do they look like?"

The five students (and six nations)saw black, bony horses with large, bat-like wings eating the meat. It was a terrifying sight indeed.

"Can anyone tell me what are they?"

"Thestrals, sir. They are Thestrals."

"Five points to Gryffindor. Thank you, Miss Granger."

"Thestrals can only be seen by people who have seen death. Can any of you tell me who you've seen died? If you don't want to, it's fine."

"My mother. Traffic accident."

"My grandfather, sickness."

"A stranger. He had a heart attack on the street, and, well, I tried to save him, but he died."

"A bear mauled my father."

"Cedric Diggory."

The last response made them all turn to a certain Harry Potter.

Russia didn't really care. He continued, "Now, thestrals prefer to eat-" but was cut off by Harry.

"You don't believe it, do you? You think I'm lying? You should have seen it! You were there! You're a Death Eater! You have the Dark Mark!"

The second he said that, he knew that he had completely, utterly, definitely fucked up.

Braginsky turned, murderous look in his eye. The transfers, too.

All the which cemented his belief that the foreigners were Death Eaters.

The other students gaped. The teacher was a Death Eater?

"On what grounds di you make these assumptions, Mr. Potter?"

His name was spat out by Braginsky.

Harry shivered. Never had he felt so threatened by a _teacher _before, and it was saying something.

"I-I saw it! On the Ravenclaw transfer too! The others must also have it!"

Now was the turn for the transfers to glare at him.

If looks could kill, the number of times he had been dead would be more than the people on Earth.

"Say as you will, Potter. If you think we're Death Eaters, why do you think we came to this school?"

Thestrals forgotten, class staring, the atmosphere covered the area like a thick blanket, suffocatingly oppressing.

"To... infiltrate? Act as spies to Voldemort?"

The class gasped.

"Voldemort? Ha! As if. That bastard could go burn in the depths of hell for all I care. Wrong answer," Lovino snorted.

"To murder people?"

"Pfft. Now that's funny. Why would we kill people? For money? For power? Just to fulfill sadistic tendencies? I can tell you, we are not evil. We are here to protect. That is all."

Before the silence could get louder, the bell rang.

Sighing in relief, Harry was the first to run into the castle, confused classmates trailing behind.

The transfers and Ivan exchanged looks and went to their respective classes.

\--

"Harry! What have I told you about lying low? Not to attract their attention! What have you gone and done now? Attract their attention!"

"I'm sorry, Hermione."

"Saying sorry won't reverse what was done. I've just done my research on them, and you had to go and ruin it!"

Hermione Granger was angry. Really angry. She was always there to clean up the trouble they had caused, and maybe prevented it, but look what had Harry done!

Accused them of being Eaters right to their face!

She had a migraine and a half now. All her progress, everything they had done now (stalking, researching, trying to befriend them) were for naught now.

They really had to control their tongues.

But what they had said in class, was it true? Were they not here to spy on them?

Who, or what were they protecting?

\--

Dumbledore rubbed his temples.

Word had spread quickly about that particular class.

The students had wrote back to their families, claiming that they _did not _want to be taught by Death Eaters or be housemates with them.

He had received quite a few angry letters too, from the parents, demanding an explanation.

Meanwhile, his old friend Arthur Kirkland was not replying to any of the letters he sent.

He was on his own.

He might as well do some digging into files.

\--

Dolores Umbridge smiled.

She had one more thing to report back to the Ministry!

The "thing" was the rumors about the foreigners... loyalty.

No, that wasn't the right word.

But whatever. She _knew _something was wrong (she always was right, wasn't she?) about them when the Ravenclaw transfer had talked back to her.

Silly Ravenclaws, believing that they knew everything.

Only she knew everything.

\--

I'm back!

I'm trying to speed up the plot more, seeing as it's moving quite slowly. Is it? Send a review, please, about how this story can improve.

On a completely different note, I flubbed the exam. Isn't it great? (dry laughs)

I feel like I'm biting off more that I can chew here, adding characters to the story. Maybe you could suggest on how to use the other characters?

See you!


	11. Of Hockey, Knives and Blood

**Chapter 10: Of Hockey, Knives** **and Blood **

Winter was a nice relief for the colder nations. For the warmer, not so much.

But none could deny how good the holidays were.

None of them had gone back to their home countries after Harry's "vision", seeing that England was in a much fragile state than they had first assumed.

Even though they didn't much like Harry, they couldn't deny that he was an important person in defeating Voldemort.

But they didn't like him, and that was that.

\--

The nations were outside ("It's too stuffy in the castle.") when it first snowed.

The tropical nations who had rarely experienced snow were quite understandably excited.

"I'm not going to care for both of you if you catch a cold, playing in the snow like that."

"Bleh. Who cares?"

Meanwhile, Canada had suggested a game of hockey. The Black Lake had frozen over (even before it snowed, it was incredibly cold) and his lighter was taken away (good thing too).

Russia, America, China, France, the Italies and Germany had agreed.

Hockey sticks and a puck was produced (did he bring them or what?).

A few games later, the nations who had agreed to play hockey limped out, bruised and bloody.

Even the Russian had a large bruise blossoming on his (rather pale) face.

Canada, from the impromptu rink, grinned and high-fived himself. He had won 15-0, the other nations all teaming up on him.

Madam Pomfrey was not in the least pleased to see the bloody and bruised nations.

And from that day on, nobody, _nobody _dared tease the "innocent" Canadian.

Who knew that the quiet twin was such a terror on ice?

\--

Dolores Umbridge we having a rather peaceful day when suddenly, a knife flew past her ear.

She turned around, fear etched on her face.

A woman (Slavic?) around 20 years of age was standing behind her, a throwing knife in hand, poised to throw it at her.

A large white bow was perched on her head, long blonde hair framing her face. She wore a Muggle outfit of a dark purple long dress with a white waist apron.

"Big brother said that you were bothering him and our friends, were you?"

"Who are you?" she asked, trying to keep fear from her voice.

"It is of no concern. Were you bothering big brother?"

"I don't even know Ho your big brother is! Is he that creepy Russian wearing weird Muggle clothes, like you are? He deserves it!"

Something that she said must have flicked a switch in the woman. In an instant, she was by Umbridge's side, pinning her to the wall.

"You have ten seconds to run. Let's play hide and seek."

The words chilled her. Without hesitation, she ran down the hall, turning left and running for her office.

Knives came flying by her. Where did she get so many knives, anyway?

In a dead end, she stopped. She should have passed her office by now...

A knife flew by her, nicking her ear and drawing blood.

She turned.

A very much insane smile greeted her.

\--

A scream echoed in the castle.

China sat up from his Hospital Wing bed.

Russia had left earlier, claiming that his injuries weren't that bad and that "'twas just a bruise" (he had heard a phrase similar to that before, but he couldn't place it).

China was very much injured, thank you very much. He suspected with his 4000 years of experience that he wouldn't be able to walk for around a week.

Surprisingly, the Italian twins fared much better than he did. Germany was a strong man, and Canada didn't target him as much, so he was also better. America however...

He was Canada's brother. Right now, he was still out, having passed out as soon as he reached the Hospital Wing.

Back to the scream. China frowned. It sounded like the Defence professor's scream...

If it was, whatever or whoever made her scream _like that_ deserved a gold medal.

But please let it not be Belarus.

\--

"What do you want, you freak?!"

Natalya Arlovskaya narrowed her eyes. This woman... this woman was who big brother wrote to her and big sister about.

She had been bothering big brother.

She had to _go. _No matter that it was a teacher.

As if that wasn't enough, she had just insulted big brother and her, _right to her face. _

If there was anything she hated more than people bothering her family, it was them _insulting _them.

Oh no, no, she couldn't stand this.

Contrary to many assumptions, she didn't want to actually _marry _her big brother.

The nation of Belarus just loved family (she was a rather motherly nation, believe it or not) and wanted them to be safe.

It was just that her ways of protection were not so normal in other people's eyes.

Having decided that this scum wasn't even worthy to be classified scum (that would be a great dishonour to scum), she stepped back.

Dolores Umbridge prepared to run, but before she made a step, Natalya grabbed her and flipped her to the floor.

"One more insult, and I'll show you just _how accurate _my knives can be. The target is your heart. Now, where is the washroom? I need to wash myself off from any traces of you before meeting big brother."

Umbridge then promptly passed out.

Oh well. At least she tried.

\--

Malaysia (on her way to the Hospital Wing to get a Pepper-up Potion) was stopped by Belarus.

She was taken aback.

Wasn't Belarus not supposed to be here...?

"Can you show me the way to the washroom? I just touched a dirty thing and I need to wash it off."

Female nations were usually best friends with each other, seeing as they were quite rare in their kind.

She nodded and led her to the closest toilet. She didn't want to ask what that "dirty thing" was (she had a sneaking suspicion it had something to do with the scream not so long ago).

As she was drinking the Pepper-up Potion, she wondered how would Russia do when he met his youngest sister.

\--

"Big brother, why did you pour water on me last time?"

Poor Ivan. He had known that Natalya would find her way to Hogwarts after that incident, but still.

She treasured family, always keeping them close to her, while he had pushed away all others, attempting to not hurt.

They were so similar, yet so different.

"Ah, about that, someone was knocking n my door."

"Who was it?"

Russia sweated. Even though it was winter.

"Uh- it was Umbridge?"

Belarus let out a growl.

That woman, that woman again.

She was going to either have her limbs tied to horses and dismembered by them tearing apart, or she would find a way to make sure that she died slowly and painfully.

Preferably including poisons and knives.

If she wasn't gone by the end of the school year, she would have her way with her.

Russia slowly backed out of the room while she was fantasizing.

\--

England flinched as he felt a cough come on.

His brothers threw him a concerned look.

Even though they never showed it, they all were pretty protective over Albion.

Maybe they had gone wrong somewhere in making him stronger.

Since trying to kill him wasn't really brotherly, after all.

Their line of thought was interrupted by a cough.

And another.

And another.

Until it turned into a coughing fit, in which Arthur Kirkland was coughing up _lungfuls _of blood.

They immediately carted him off to the Hospital Wing.

\--

"How is he?"

Was the first question asked when France, Russia (who had escaped from Belarus), Japan, Canada, Philippines, Singapore and Malaysia visited him.

The ones who were still in the Hospital Wing also glanced worriedly at him.

"Not that much of a problem, but Voldemort is attacking again."

"Shit."

\--

New chapter! I'm starting school real soon though, so this fic's updates'll slow down ):

AnimeAddicts7, thanks for the review! I hope this chapter's Belarus is good! I've never tried writing her before, so she might be a little OOC.

Thanks everyone for the kind reviews!

See you!


	12. Of Disappearance, Rain and Memories

**Chapter 11: ****Of Disappearance, Rain and ****Memories **

Flight from Death.

France for once didn't tease England that his citizens used the language of _amour _to create a namesake for himself.

He was worried for his long-time rival (he wouldn't have anyone to fight with after he was gone, okay?) and Arthur Kirkland.

It wasn't his fault that this Dark wizard rose to such power.

Nobody was.

Humans were like this, always craving for power, not noticing the death and destruction caused. They were formidable threats, they were.

But if they knew what was happening and continued - they were doubly more so.

And the worst? The one who believed that he was right, that he was working for a good cause.

Voldemort was exactly the third type.

He believed that he was "cleaning" the world from non-magical people, picturing the kingdom of pure wizards he would rule upon after achieving immortality, creating an utopia in his head where everything was "good".

It sounded similar to one certain German ruler, didn't it?

This was war.

A silent war, like cancer, where when the enormity of the situation was realized, the sickness was already impossible to remove.

\--

"Where's Alfred?"

"I don't know. He wasn't in the common room when I woke up. I assumed that he had went down for breakfast."

"But he wasn't here... oh Alfred. Always making us worried. Where could he _be _at?"

Silence.

Then, "Should we tell Arthur about this?"

"Do."

\--

"What do you mean, Alfred is _GONE?_"

England had just received news about America's disappearance.

The invisible Golden Trio shook beside Maria and Matthew.

The American transfer was gone?

"I- I don't know! I woke up today and just couldn't find him!"

"I searched everywhere. Quidditch pitch, Great Hall, the lake, _everywhere._"

"I see. Go. Inform the others we have an emergency meeting tonight. Something bad must have happened."

"Yes."

\--

Arthur sat down after they left. He rubbed his temples.

Alfred had just disappeared on him.

In this school.

Wait.

There was still a high probability he was still in Scotland.

He should call Allistor.

\--

The Golden Trio were shocked.

They still hadn't gotten over Professor Kirkland's outburst.

He was scary.

They decided to not get on his bad side.

"Alfred is gone?"

"How though? Isn't Hogwarts the safest place?"

"The last four years weren't exactly _safe,_ were they, Ron?"

"You have a point there."

"Why is he gone?"

"Maybe... to go to Voldemort?"

"Kirkland sounded quite frazzled, though. And Harry, they did say that they weren't Death Eaters."

"But- they could be lying."

"Harry. Why are you so paranoid?"

"Because he _killed my parents_!"

"He nearly killed my dad too, you know. You know what, it's nearly time for the DA meeting. Let's go."

\--

"What the _f__uck, _scone bastard. Are you sure you're not kidding?"

"Why would I kid about something like this?"

The meeting today was unusually solemn.

It was the calmest meeting they had had in a few centuries.

If it wasn't because of the circumstances, Feliciano Vargas would've made pasta for everyone to celebrate.

Lovino Vargas was scared, but he didn't show it.

The superpower, one of the strongest nations in the world (literally) had just been kidnapped.

The only person - if even _that _could count as a person - he could think of was Voldemort.

What if he wasn't satisfied? What if they came after his dear _famiglia_?

He would do anything, yes, anything to protect them, which was why he was here in the first place.

But look where it had got him.

Helpless, weak, _stuck in here_.

"Who would have done this?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

"I just... never thought he would strike so soon. And America, too."

"There are a lot of things he could do."

"There's nothing we can do now, is there...?"

"If he isn't back three days later, we are going to search for him."

Romano wanted to snap. Three days? It was a long time. Anything could happen in three days.

But it was a good plan. They had to wait, since Alfred, being the superpower he was, could escape during the three days.

If he didn't, well...

But now, when they had just taken him, the nation-nappers (they weren't exactly kids, now we're they?) should be cautious. Three days would be enough for them to let down their guards.

Everyone agreed.

And the clouds gathered.

\--

Thunder flashed. Shortly after, the rain came.

Pitter-patter, it sounded, on the roof, on the flagstones, knocking against the windows, the sky's tears.

Malaysia was in the Ravenclaw girl's dorm, in her bed, huddled under the covers.

She was a humid country, one with many tropical storms, much heavier than this.

So why was she so scared of today's?

Maybe it reminded her of her brother, whom she betrayed to the Netherland armies.

She could still remember that day where she stood over her already severely weakened abang's body, keris in hand.

It was a time of confusion, the early 16th century.

The rain fell mercilessly. Tap-tap-tapping on the windows, taunting her.

After Melaka had been colonized by the Portuguese, she had ran to Johor with her tainted name, founding the Johor Sultanate.

She carried resentment towards her older brother, weakened by the war.

How would she have known that he was about to fade soon?

Worse, abang had mouthed "terima kasih" (Thank you) to her, before she struck that fatal blow.

And Belanda invaded.

\--

England stood by the window of his room.

He found this rain unsettling.

He thought of America, his former colony, alone and possibly tortured, in this heavy rain.

Scotland had not been able to locate him, which was worrying.

It usually meant that said nation was deliberately hiding his aura, or - he dared not think of it - dead.

He hoped that it was the former.

The rain fell, this time heavier than before.

Roaring, as if the sky itself was angry with humans.

He was pulled back to the war with America.

"What happened to you, England? You used to be so... great."

Pity in his voice, seeing his former caretaker so broken, struggling to not cry in front of him.

He aimed the bayonet.

\--

America is kidnapped! Where is he?

I'm so sorry this is an incredibly short chapter. Writers block usually sets in by around ten chapters, and since this is my first long-term book, the struggle is real.

Angsty end! I hope I made you guys cry, haha.

Please review! I feel like my writing's not good enough. Tell me where I can improve and maybe send some ideas in!

Once again, thank you all for reviewing!

See you!


	13. Of Luck, Anger and Mind Reading

**Chapter 12: Of Luck, Anger and ****Mind Reading**

Alfred ran, not looking back, not daring to look back.

His breathing was ragged, coming in short pants, legs tired, but not slowing down.

He dodged the "Crucio!" and kept on running.

He had to get to Hogwarts.

He had to warn them.

It wasn't safe there anymore.

\--

"ALFRED!"

He opened his eyes blearily.

Where was he? Still in the basement? Was it another day of torture?

No, he realized. No, the surroundings were white, not gray. It was bright, not dark.

There was a face in front of his. A grumpy, yet incredibly relived face. A face that had caterpillars for eyebrows.

"Hey. I'm here, Arthur. The he-"

He muttered weakly, and broke off into harsh coughs.

God, it hurt. Everything hurt. His head hurt, his feet hurt, his chest hurt.

Arthur looked at him with concern.

"You should rest up now. Maria found you, collapsed in the Forest, - why she was there, I don't know - hardly breathing at all. You were gone for almost a week, Alfred. We were sending out search parties."

"I have to teach now. Sleep. It'll do you much good."

\--

They hadn't been able to find him anywhere. Needless to say, they were worried.

Then one night, when Philippines went out for a midnight walk (too worried for her former colonizer to sleep), she found him, passed out by a tree.

He was in a weak state, so weak that if he was a normal human, he would've died from cardiac arrest and hypothermia.

She called up the nearest nations - China and Russia (he was tagging along) and carried him to the Hospital Wing.

"Please let him be alright."

"He's a nation, of course he'll be alright."

"Do you think that bloke found us out-?"

"I hope not. Even if he did, he wouldn't remember."

"But why-"

"Why did they target him? I guess that they got lucky. We weren't very inconspicuous, after all."

"If they hurt another one of us, I'll- I'll-"

"You're too young, Singa. Even I couldn't save my brother. Let's not be rash, now."

"...I worry for him."

"We all do. Now, let's not bother him anymore. Madam Pomfrey's calling us to get out."

"Right. Goodbye, Alfred. Hope you return as a hero."

"Goodbye, Alfred. I'll get you burgers once you're better."

The American opened his eyes once they were gone.

It was touching, the cold Singaporean being so warm to them.

Except for Malaysia. That girl was the only one who could make him smile when he was by her side.

They had grown up together, been through wars together. She was like a big sister to him, and he felt safe with her around.

Even though they often fought.

\--

The dungeon was quiet.

After Alfred's escape, the Death Eater in charge was scared.

He trembled, knowing that Wormtail would come soon, on the Dark Lord's orders, and bring him to the room, the room which they all feared.

The Dark Lord would be angry.

Very angry indeed.

\--

Voldemort hissed in anger.

He had been so close- so close!

Granted, he wasn't sure that that American fool _was _the immortal nation he was searching for, but Wormtail had brought him there.

And now he had escaped.

"Wormtail," he said, "bring the idiot who let him escape here."

The snivelling man scuttled off.

Now, he had time to consider his next steps. Since the American escaped, he would tell his friends about it - he had to make sure that every step he took made him stay on the already thin line that was becoming thinner.

He had tried Legilimency on him, but he failed. That was the thing wrong about him. He shouldn't have such strong defences...

He had to act. Quick.

"M- Master. I've brought him."

The idiot in front of him trembled.

"Master, I can explain-"

"Crucio!"

\--

"Right, listen up! I'm teaching you Occlumency today."

Some muttering among the nations.

"Dude, what's that?"

America was out of the Hospital Wing, looking better.

Thank god for that.

"It's a form of protecting one's mind from Legilimency. It prevents a Legilimens from knowing your thoughts, accessing your memories and such."

"So Legilimency is like mind reading?"

"Yes and no - why though? It's not like you're learning it. You're learning _Occlumency_, not Legilimency."

"All right, all right."

"Right, so I'm going to try Legilimency on all of you - not all at once, it's impossible -, and try to stop it. Clear your mind, lock your memories up somewhere - visualize your mind as anything you like."

"Sounds hard."

"And so it is. This is a magic that most take years, even decades to master. But I trust that you can do it."

Silence.

"That noseless dude did this to me too! I don't think he succeeded though."

"What? He did _what?_"

Nobody was surprised, really, since that was what Voldemort was most skilled in. He definitely would have tried this on him.

But it came as a shock, though.

"You were better than him, though."

"Of course."

\--

The Occlumency lessons did not go well.

For one, when Russia attempted it, he sort of unconsciouslyvattacked England's mind.

It didn't succeed, but it damn nearly did.

England knew what prompted that counter-attack. He could see it on everyone's faces, that they _didn't want to have their memories shown to him_, and it was a natural reaction by nations ever since the start of time.

If attacked, defend. If undefendable, counter-attack.

But he had to teach them to defend. Defence was the best offence, he had learned over the centuries.

Offense, he had also learned, left yourself wide open for attack.

\--

Another chapter! Alfred's escaped from Voldie and is safe now! Yay!

I'm not really sure what my mind'll conjure up later in this book, so this book might go on a wild rollercoaster, in terms of plot.

Please review! I love reading your reviews, they mean a lot to me!

See you!


	14. Of Bad Ideas, Futures and Exits

**Chapter 13: Of ****Bad Ideas****, ****Futures and Exits**

"I tell you, this idea is completely daft!"

"But, North, come on-"

"No. I will not approve of this. It's a trap! Can't anyone see?"

"How do you know so well it's a trap? Your senses? You're just paranoid! This might be the only chance that we get to save everyone."

"Yes, it's my senses. No, I'm not paranoid. I'm just cautious. Harry will be there too, you understand?"

"What- him?"

"Yes, him. Alfred overheard them talking in the common room about their plan to contact Sirius Black-"

"Sirius Black? The untrialed convict?"

"Yes, Pat. Let me finish. They were planning to distract Umbridge, and contact Sirius Black using Floo. Terrible idea, I must say."

"She could've come back before they finished-"

"Shut up."

"So, I still think that it's a stupid idea. If you idiots insist on doing this, I'll come with you. Just to make sure the whole Ministry isn't blown up."

"Just admit you're worried about Albion."

"I'm not, and never will be."

\--

Careers Advice for Alfred was going well.

"So, Jones. What do you wish to do in the future?"

"Uhh... "

"I trust that you've read through the booklet?"

"Oh yeah! I wanna be an Auror! That sounds like a job fit for a hero like me!"

"Hem, hem."

Maybe not.

"Mr. Jones, would you mind explaining exactly _why _you'd like to be an Auror, aside from 'being heroic'?"

"Well, you see... uhh..."

"Dolores. Is there anything wrong with it? Being an Auror is certainly 'heroic'. Why do you oppose his choices?"

"For one, he is too brash. Always taking the initiative, running his mouth- I've had to give him a few _detentions _because of it."

"I don't see how that is bad. Aren't Aurors supposed to _protect _innocents? These are quite desirable qualities, but Jones," Professor Mcgonagall said, turning back to Alfred, "you could do with keeping some of your impulsive ways under control."

"Your magic, too. I heard that it's unstable? You should practise more, eventually it'll stabilize."

"Will do, ma'am."

Umbridge in the corner turned red. How dare they ignore the headmistress!

"Good. Now go. I have other students to tend to."

\--

"Sit down, Mr. Vargas."

Lovino Vargas shuffled over to Severus Snape's desk. Reluctantly, he sat down.

"What would you want to have as a career in the future, when you graduate Hogwarts? Certainly not a Potioneer, I hope," Snape sneered.

"Well professor, I was hoping that I could be a Herbologist."

"And why is that?"

"You see, professor, I have rather high marks in Herbology, and caring for plants - gardening - has always been one of my hobbies."

"You are similar to Mr. Longbottom then, in a sense. He is useless in Potions, but while I cannot believe that I am saying this, he would make a good Herbologist. Professor Sprout has said that the both of you were the best students she ever had, and she was proud of you."

Lovino looked up, surprised. Someone was proud of him? Someone _liked _him?"

Suddenly, he found that his eyes were wet, tears threatening to flow. He sniffed and blinked the tears away.

"I believe you have someone to thank, Mr. Vargas. Go. I don't have all day for idiots like you to be crying in my office."

Romano thanked Snape and ran out.

\--

"Good afternoon, Mr. Beilschimdt."

"Good afternoon, Professor Sprout."

The kind woman smiled.

"Is there any career that you'd like to pursue after graduation?"

"I have thought over it. I think I would like to be a Magizoologist. Like Newt Scamander."

"Well, that is a nice choice. Why would you want to work as one?"

"I'm good with them, better than with most people. They don't judge like people do."

A pause.

"I see. Well, Care of Magical Creatures is definitely a must, and you should take Charms too, since some can be dangerous."

"Thank you, Professor Sprout."

"You're welcome."

\--

"So nice to see you, Mr. Honda! Now, what career do you have in mind for the future?"

The tiny Head of House squeaked.

"Good morning, Professor Flitwick. I would like to pursue a career as an Arithmancer."

"Ooh, one of the more unusual choices. Why, though? I must say, working with numbers for me can be... tricky."

"Arithmancy is a subject that deals with numbers and their magical properties. I have an interest in numbers, and my Arithmancy is rather good, if I do say so myself."

"All right, all right. Remember, whatever you choose to make of yourself, you must firstly, know what exactly you are doing, and try not to give up."

"_Arigato_, Professor Flitwick."

"No problem."

\--

The noise and smell startled him.

_BOOM, _it went.

So it seemed that Harry's plan was in action.

Terrible choice, he still reckoned.

He went back to the things at hand, trying to block it out.

\--

He was dragged out of the room by Albion.

"What? Anything on fire?"

"No, you have to see this. The Weasly twins are setting off fireworks!"

"And?"

"It's a mess everywhere, they got caught by Umbridge and they've just decided, fuck it, we're gonna get out if school."

See, that idea was _terrible. _They got caught just like he knew.

"They've enlisted Peeves to cause trouble. I love them."

Uh.

"Come on!"

\--

Hogwarts was a mess.

Or rather, the newly appointed headmistress was.

On her way back to her office, Peeves the poltergeist had dropped a Muggle-made water balloon on her head, and she had been blocked by a magical swamp that _just couldn't go away. _

Even with magic.

She needed to clean this mess up, _right now, _and inform (not tattle-tail. No, she wouldn't stoop down to that.) the Minister of Magic about this... insubordination.

The teachers (really, her lessers) had done absolutely _nothing _to help her.

She suspected that a few of the students threw some jinxes at her too.

The Minister would know about this.

\--

I've finally decided on how the book is going to be.

It won't really be involved in the book's plot, but it'll be affected by it. However, there's this really important happening (you guys probably already know) that both of them are similar, and this book'll follow the original book for just that chapter.

I haven't read the books in a long time (5 years?), so forgive me if there's any mistakes.

See you!


	15. Prediction, Mysteries and Confrontation

**Chapter 14: Of** **Prediction,**** Mysteries and Confrontation**

Maybe Seamus was just paranoid.

Or he was right.

Ever since the English Isle brothers had been born (or existed? No one was really sure how nations came about), they hadn't been, well, very good to each other.

But if there was one thing they agreed on, Northern Ireland had the ability to see exactly how the future would be, in many, many states.

Another way to say it was that he could see all of the possible outcomes of a choice, and how the future might be affected by it.

It depended, really, on many other factors. Other people's opinions, science, the ever-changing human mind, etcetera.

Usually he could single out a few that had the most possibility of happening, but that wasn't very _right, _most of the time, since it came down to the nation itself.

And he was known for being quite the paranoid nation. Most of the times, he predicted the worse outcomes, when it went right.

But on important things, he was rarely wrong.

Was this important?

Scotland hoped not, as if the worst outcome was true...

He wouldn't like it.

But often, history does not happen according to one's wishes and whims.

\--

Right now, all Harry could think of was "Fuck fuck fuck."

Why had he used such a plan? It had failed impressively.

In the pink room with cat pictures meowing on the walls, he waited, almost patiently, for the judgement to begin.

\--

His eyes snapped open, the dim light of the half-full moon reflecting in the brown eyes.

It had started.

He swung out of his (green and silver sheets - really? Red was better) bed, took inventory of his sleeping dormitory (all asleep. Good), and stepped out, away from the Slytherin common room.

China proceeded through the long, dark corridors, his silent footsteps echoing in the empty dungeon.

The quest had started.

\--

"For the last time! Is everyone here? We have to leave now!"

"Yes, England. Everyone's here. Can we go now? Umbridge is already out."

They looked to the Forbidden Forest from the seventh floor.

The pink cardigan of said professor could be clearly seen, following to darker figures to the Forest.

"Yes. Now, let's go through this again. We know that Voldemort's ambushing the DA in the Department of Mysteries. Using that as a distraction, we could possibly take down some of the Death Eaters and weaken him."

Aishah raised her hand.

"Why don't we just take him down during the battle? I mean, there's going to be a lot of confusion, right?"

"Good point, but there's a certain prophecy in there that says that only the Chosen One, aka Harry, can defeat him."

"That sounds like a load of crap."

"Indeed it is. But prophecies are prophecies."

"Still, it's a shame."

"It's time for us to go, no? Let's go."

_The risks are high here. Someone will die_ _today. _

\--

They appeared out of the green fire, one by one, tumbling out of the fireplaces.

After clearing the coast, they made their way to the Department of Mysteries.

The door was locked and bolted.

They decided to hide in the dark and wait for the DA to open the door.

They would go in with them and ambush the Dark army from behind.

They would be the canary after the mantis in one of China's sayings.

\--

The nations left the small crowd of the DA and silently went behind the still hiding Voldemort and his followers.

When Dumbledore's Army neared them, the Battle of the Department of Mysteries started.

\--

Hermione had been cautious ever since Harry had told them of his plan to "save Sirius from Voldemort".

He seemed to like that a lot, being heroic, since the Triwizard Tournament.

Saving Fleur's little sister even though he shouldn't, looking through Nagini's eyes and saving Ron's father...

It was for a good cause, yes, but she felt that Harry was turning into The-Boy-Who-Lived, not just being... Harry Potter. The naïve, eleven year old preteen who saved her from the troll in the girl's bathroom with Ron.

\--

The battle was messier than they had expected.

For one, using Reducto in a room filled with glass, _fragile, breakable _balls was most definitely not a good idea.

Second, Neville Longbottom, for some reason, couldn't speak properly, nevermind casting spells that required _careful and precise _pronunciation.

And third, you shouldn't battle on shattered glass.

The glass crunched under their feet as they tried to sneak up on them.

Granted, they weren't really loud, and the others made way more noise than the battle-hardened nations.

But it was still unnerving. They were almost tempted to launch a frontal attack on Voldemort and Co., seeing (hearing) that they had already made so much noise.

Still, they held themselves back, taking down Death Eaters at the back silently with curses (magical, mind you).

\--

Ronald Weasly was the first to see the nations at the back of their enemies.

Eyes wide, he tugged at Harry's robe and pointed to them.

Harry blinked, sweat running down his face. The Department of Mysteries was stuffy.

When he finally spotted them, he wasn't really... surprised.

He had long suspected them as followers of Voldemort, anyway.

He didn't notice the Death Eater behind them falling to the ground, courtesy of Russia who had saw him trying to be subtle.

\--

Voldemort felt that something was off.

His plan to get them was in action, everything was good (except for the glass on the floor), so why...?

Was it the American?

Nah, he couldn't be strong enough to do that. Before the escape, he had inflicted enough wounds on him to make sure that he couldn't use magic for at least a year, nevermind two months.

No, that couldn't be it.

Briefly, he glanced back.

A familiar face with a cowlick in his blond hair was seen behind.

\--

How-

No.

What the everloving _fuck _was going on?

It was a mess. Spells were flying all over the place ("Stubefy!"), the shelves were knocked over, prophecies shattered, and they were surrounded.

In the front was the inexperienced Dumbledore's Army (which they could easily defeat), and in the back was... whatever they called the group of foreigners (which they certainly could _not _defeat).

They were in a dilemma.

Voldemort, after that momentary glimpse of the American, was undeniably scared.

But they were supposed to be enough to sap his magic for a whole year!

Unless they were... yes, they were.

He turned back, triumphant smile on his face.

The - wait. What was he just thinking about?

He tried to remember, but his mind drew a blank.

Damn it.

\--

"NO! SIRIUS!"

England looked back as he felt a twinge.

That meant a citizen had died...

But it was stronger. Citizens killed by magic had a greater effect on nations.

He looked back.

And saw Sirius Black, the untrialed convict, godfather of Harry Potter, falling back into the veil that led to the Death Chamber of the Ministry of Magic.

\--

Dumbledore arriving at the right place at the right time definitely cleared up the battle that was going on.

Dueling his former student and making Harry exorcising (if that was even that word) him out of himself...

That was only done by Dumbledore.

The shock and fear was apparent on each and every employee that arrived early.

The Minister was finally forced to admit that yes, the Dark Lord was back, after many questioning by media.

\--

Here's the chapter! Yes, this is the event that I mentioned last chapter. I don't think it's done well enough, though.

We're nearing the end! One (or two? I might make an epilogue) more chapter to go! This might be the shortest completed Pottertalia book (and using the shortest time, since I started on 27th of July, 2019, and today is 31th of July) on Fanfiction!

Thank you again, everyone, for supporting this not-so-good book that I wrote according to a scene in my head (which I didn't put in the book, since it was pretty dark).

I might just be able to finish this book tomorrow. Tell me if you want a spin-off (that Commonwealth shopping incident, and maybe another book on the first time they went to Hogwarts)!

See you!


	16. Of Misunderstanding and Goodbyes

**Chapter 15: Of Misunderstanding and Goodbyes**

Harry left Dumbledore's office, head spinning, his thoughts not quite settled down yet.

_"__The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ... and the Dark Lord will mark him as equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives ... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies ..."_

_"That was the prophecy. Harry, there were actually two young infants that fit that criteria... both of them are in my care now. You might want to know who was the other, and why you were chosen?"__"Tell me."__"The other, I believe, was Neville Longbottom."__Neville? That useless in Potions, yet genius in Herbology in the same dorm as him?__"Now, I cannot know what Voldemort was thinking at the time, but you may have been chosen because of both of you sharing a similar trait: being a half-blood."__"He likely thought you as his equal, and attempted to kill you."_Harry hit a soft wall, breaking him out of his train of memory, and falling to the ground.

Wait, were walls supposed to be soft?

He looked up, and saw a face that he right now, didn't want to meet.

The face of a certain perpetually happy Italian, looking down on him worriedly, somehow still seeming happy.

"Would you like some help? You seem to be stuck in memory, like people often do. Are you okay?" he held out a hand.

"No, I'm okay. Go away, Death Eater. I saw you yesterday night, by _his _side. How dare- HOW DARE YOU SHOW YOUR FACE HERE?! WHY DON'T YOU JUST GO JOIN YOUR FRIENDS AND GO BACK TO YOUR 'MASTER'?!"

Feliciano Vargas looked hurt. Very hurt. Hurt, like he had just taken a gun and shot him everywhere, yet not ending his life.

Harry immediately regretted his words, yet he still held contempt against the foreigners.

Heck, he hadn't known that Voldemort had followers in and out England.

"FRATELLINO! Where are you?! Don't just run off like that!"

Lovino Vargas skidded around the corner, spotting his little brother, eyes red, sniffling.

"What- who made you cry? I'll put them on the hit list! Was it him?" he pointed to the deep in thought Harry.

He wiped his eyes and nodded weakly.

Harry felt an evil aura emanating in the corridor. He looked up.

Oh shit.

He saw a _very _angry Romano, jujust on the brink of pulling out his gun (he had saw him polishing it one day) and making Swiss cheese of him (though that was Switz's speciality, he could do that just fine).

_"What. Did. You. Do. To. My. Brother? _Hmm?"

"We-well, aren't you all Death Eaters? I saw you yesterday- at the Depar-"

"Give me _one good reason _I shouldn't either kill you right now, or get a hitman to do it."

"_Fratello_, that's enough. It's of no matter, anyway."

"But-but- he made you cry!"

"No, _fratello. _He had a lot on his mind, and was probably in a bad mood. Let's go."

"_Fratellino-_"

"Let's go. I'll make you pizza after this. Margarita."

"...Alright. Fine."

He didn't forget to turn and threaten him, mouthing _I'll deal with you later _to Harry.

\--

"-and I'm saying! He's already suspicious of us! He might have told the others too!"

"Romano, calm down."

"_Calm down?"_

"Look, what should we do now? Although they haven't actually found out who we are, we can't go on like this anymore. The DA probably already know of this issue."

"...Should we leave? I mean, this year is nearly over, anyway? Adding to the Minister of Magic's acknowledging of Voldemort's return, the whole magical community's a mess."

"I guess you have a point. But how do we leave? We can't very well just walk out, can we? And don't bother mentioning the Weasly twins to me."

"Sneaking out? There's a lot of secret passageways that lead outside of Hogwarts, no?"

"...We need a plan."

\--

The plan was mapped out with little trouble.

It was relatively simple.

They were to get out of their houses with their things and go to different secret passageways that weren't collapsed. After that, they were to meet in the Shrieking Shack and nation hop to Scotland's house.

If someone asked why were they packing, coming up with reasons was quite easy.

"Why, I lost something, pulled out everything and made a mess everywhere, so I'm rearranging my bag."

It usually went along these lines.

It was funny, really, how humans could be so gullible.

\--

The two Hogwarts professors had to choose between escaping the prying eyes of their students or continue teaching.

Eventually, they decided to run.

It was the way of cowards, but cowards that chose their battles lived to see another day, whereas the hero that fought every battle died early.

There was no dishonour in choosing to live, even if they couldn't die.

\--

Two professors and twelve students were missing at breakfast.

The students shrugged, putting it off as early breakfasters.

When they departed for class, the realization set in.

The transfers and professors were missing.

\--

"Where is Professor Braginsky? It's been ten minutes since class started!"

"The transfers are missing too. Do you think it because of that battle?"

"Why would they leave like that? Hogwarts is safe!"

Just then, they saw Professor Mcgonagall running towards them, slowing into a slight jog as she neared them.

"Class is dismissed. The headmaster had changed your schedules to make up for the absence if Professor Braginsky and Kirkland."

"Professor? May I ask where they are?"

"That is not for you to know, Miss Bones. In fact, none of the staff know. Not even me, or the headmaster."

Muttering broke out. Nobody knew? Where had they gone? Was it like the last time Alfred F. Jones had mysteriously disappeared for a week and came back seriously injured?

What secrets were they hiding?

\--

The Shrieking Shack was a dilapidated, run-down place, rumored to be haunted.

For now, it served as a temporary headquarter to the runaway nations.

The floors creaked ominously with their every step. The night wind blew through the glass-free, square excuse of windows.

It definitely seemed like a haunted house right out of one of America's ghost movies.

They were resting there, recuperating before nation-jumping to Scotland's house where it was safe.

It was an uneasy night.

\--

Where were the professors?

They were Death Eaters, but Ron still liked their teaching...

Wait. Ron? Liking school?

This was unheard of.

Still, he wished that they would return soon.

\--

They were apparently wrong in calculations.

Classes were still held in the castle.

Oh well.

\--

In the morning, they hopped to Scotland's house.

The cosy, warm-colour themed house was a welcome sight for the nations who had spent a night outside in the humid air of summer, in an old, creaking building.

They breakfasted (the nations refusing England from stepping into the kitchen) and washed themselves hurriedly.

They still had a long way to go.

\--

Hello! One more epilogue and this book'll be finished!

I've decided to make a spin-off about the Commonwealth entering Hogwarts for the first time. I'll make the shopping incident a separate one shot.

They'll be out a few weeks after this book finishes. I'll probably be typing up a few pre-written chapters in the few weeks, so please be patient.

See you!


	17. Of Meeting and Questions

**Epilogue: Of Meeting and Questions**

Harry Potter saw his son, Albus off Platform 9 3/4.

The red steam train was put-put-putting, the steam rising in the air. He waved to him one last time before briskly setting off.

He attracted many stares, but it probably was the scar that he didn't bother hiding anymore and the fact that he defeated Voldemort.

Speaking of the defeat of Voldemort, he thought back when he decided to ask Voldemort about something, just before his demise.

_"Voldemort, would you happen to have fourteen followers, with one named Aloysius Lee? Did you tell them to infiltrate the castle? Where did they go?"__He couldn't let his guard down him, but he needed answers. Answers to questions he had two years ago.__"Hah! As if I'll fall for that trick. No, I suppose I'll humor you. I know all my followers, but there isn't one named Aloysius in my ranks."__"Then- what about- Arthur Kirkland? Or Ivan Braginsky? Or Francis Bonnefoy-"__"For the last time, no. I do not know anyone with any of these names."__Then... who were they?_"Harry? Are you alright? You seem to be deep in thought."

"Oh, no, it's nothing, Ginny. Just some memories."

"Oh, okay then."

He was distracted, noticing a certain hairstyle and colour in the crowd.

That damn cowlick.

Was it special to only that American or-?

Was it someone else?

He sure hoped it was.

He didn't want to see those faces again.

He turned. The bobbing cowlick was lost in the crowd.

He let out a breath that he hadn't realized that he was holding in.

"Alfred! You're walking into someone!"

He jumped, noticing that in front of him was the face of a familiar American, but he looked almost similar to how he was when fifteen.

Behind him was a Canadian, identical to him but with a slimmer and shorter build.

They looked around... 19? 20?

Alfred F. Jones and Matthew Williams.

Why were they still here? Weren't all the Death Eaters already sent to Azkaban, or died in the war?

No, he remembered. They didn't have the Dark Mark.

But they were in league with them.

"AME- ALFRED! DON'T RUN OFF LIKE THAT! And Matthew, you could at least have told me before you went off chasing him! Heaven knows how worried I was, not seeing you anywhere!"

An Arthur Kirkland appeared and yelled at them.

Matthew looked sorry, but Alfred looked only slightly sheepish.

"Sorry, Artie."

"Don't - ugh. Have you apologized to the poor man? You nearly knocked him down."

"I'm sorry, uhh- wait. Harry?"

By now, Harry was glaring at them, arms folded.

"Why are you here?" he asked, tone soft but deadly.

"You should know I'm an Auror now, and have the power to just drag the three of you to Azkaban under being Death Eaters and conspiring with one."

"There's supposed to be a trial too, so..."

Arthur smacked Matthew lightly on his head.

"That's not the point, Matthew."

Ignoring Harry, the three turned on their heels and Disapparated with a small "pop".

\--

England reclined in his office chair.

So much paperwork he had done and yet had to be done.

Adding to the accidental meeting with Harry yesterday when they were out (Alfred wanting to buy the wizard sweets before the meeting), he had a lot of things on his mind.

It wasn't surprising that Harry thought them Death Eaters.

No, it was the fact that he knew they had the Mark.

Where could he have known it? The only times they had talked about it was at the Room of Requirement meetings and the time Singapore told them about it...

He couldn't remember if he had casted the Silencing Charm any if the times.

Fuck.

He was too careless. Hadn't Snape told him about his "nearly daily midnight strolls"?

He should have known better than to dismiss that.

But regretting cannot change the past.

\--

Albus Severus Potter walked into the Great Hall with the other first-year students.

Up by the Head Table, he saw the Headmistress, Professor Mcgonagall and the Herbology professor, Professor Longbottom.

Most of the other teachers were familiar (his dad had shown him photos), but he just couldn't place their names.

There was one unfamiliar face sitting to the far left of the table, shifting on her seat, clearly new.

But he hadn't time worry.

The Sorting had started.

\--

The Sorting ended. The Headmistress stood up, welcomed the students and the feast started.

The plates cleared and Professor Mcgonagall stood up.

He didn't really pay attention to the speech, but when the new teacher was mentioned, he pricked up his ears (not literally).

"... there has been an addition to our staff. The professor of Ancient Runes has retired, opting to spend her retirement years in peace. Please welcome Professor Lukas Bondevik from Norway."

\--

Aaaand... cut!

Terribly short, I know. It's been the shortest chapter, while epilogues are supposed to be long.

Oh well.

The spin-off will be published maybe this Saturday, or failing that, next Monday. There's two choices for you to choose, either a rather dark and plot-ty one or a humor based book. It will be set in the nineteenth century.

I'll be taking the ideas from whatever you guys suggest (reviews), so you decide. There's supposed to be a plot though, so please base them on the previous chapters.

The one-shot will be published as a separate book around the same time, so do remind me if I'm late.

Lastly, many, many thanks for the kind reviews! They're the fuel for my writing (and I take some of the ideas from there) and I love reading them!


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